Rurouni Yahiko
by Abdiel
Summary: Join Yahiko Myojin as he journeys all over Japan, reuniting with old acquaintances as well as meeting with a few new faces.
1. Chapter 1

Many things happened during the passage of time. The four brothers... the seasons... came and went, each taking their turn in the continuous cycle of life, death, and rebirth. The youngest one, Spring, oversaw the birth of a new day and a new life. Summer then entered the picture, sprinkling happiness and joviality everywhere. From there came Autumn, unbidden, serving as a test of courage and fortitude. The eldest of them all, Winter, was the final step. He was the one who saw through issues by way of memory and regret... of a life fulfilled or not at all. Death subsequently entered to avoid stagnancy. It did away with the old as life blossomed anew come Spring.

After endless springs and summers, autumn and winter finally arrived at the Kamiya Dojo; not in a form of literal doom and gloom, but more on the note of sudden changes arriving with a resounding finality. And there were indeed a lot of changes for all the people in Kenshin Himura's life.

First there was Megumi Takani's eventual transfer to the Aizu province. Then there came Hajime Saito's relocation to another police precinct. Currently, there was Sanosuke Sagara's arrest and sudden flight... something about roughhousing an Ishin Shishi politician by the name of Jusanro Tani in Shinshu. They heard it all from Chief Uramura, the bespectacled and slanted-eyed police officer that frequented their abode.

The autumn gale blew harder and harder as the inevitable cold winds of winter quickly approached.

They later learned that Sanosuke had decided on taking a long trip away from Japan, but not without having their good-byes said first.

An image of Sanosuke waiting for them, standing inside a little boat at the docks, served as a vision that would forever be etched in their minds, particularly in the memories of one Tokyo Samurai descendant.

"Yo. Been a while," Sanosuke greeted nonchalantly, still looking gaunt and rough, wearing his trademark garb while holding a duffel bag in his bandaged hand.

'He hasn't changed one bit. He's still the same Sanosuke we met at the Akabeko nearly a year ago. But of course he hasn't changed! It has only been a week. So many things around us are changing, though.'

Yahiko shook his head once to cast away the weird thoughts in his mind. "What the hell are you doing in a boat in the middle of the night?" he asked Sanosuke.

The thin man shrugged his shoulders. "It should be obvious. I'm taking a boat out of here."

"You're going out to sea?" Yahiko incredulously exclaimed.

"I thought this was a good chance to say good-bye to Japan and see the world." Sanosuke did his trademark smirk as he lazily stretched his arms wide.

"You're going to take that little boat to a foreign country?" Yahiko parroted in the same inflection as his earlier query.

"You're so stupid! You'll die! Forget it!" Kaoru "cheerfully" retorted, proclaiming everyone else's general unsaid sentiment.

Sanosuke looked at the motley crew with half-lidded eyes. "You're the fools. There's a ship waiting for me offshore."

The sound of police whistles reverberated all over the surrounding area of the harbor. Two of Sanosuke's friends raced up towards them with cries of "They found us! The cops are coming!" meshing with urgent shouts of "Find him! He's on the docks somewhere!"

Yahiko reflexively drew out his shinai. "All right, I got this..."

Kenshin held Yahiko at bay. "No, wait a minute."

They all suddenly saw a familiar friend and ally, Chief Uramura, traitorously calling the other policemen's attention towards their current position, pointing the way... in the wrong direction.

"There he is! This way! Charge!" Uramura yelled after his compatriots.

Yahiko blinked once. "Say what?"

"Oro?" Kenshin intoned, wearing his familiar silly face of wide-eyed confusion.

Uramura glanced their way as he put a finger to his lips before hurrying towards the direction he pointed at from before.

"What's wrong? They aren't here yet? Couldn't they see me?" Sanosuke concernedly asked.

"No, the chief made a 'mistake'." Kenshin shrugged once, an amused smile on his lips.

Sanosuke raised an eyebrow at that. "Mistake, huh? Well, I guess everyone makes mistakes. Then it's time for me to get going."

Kaoru's thoughts snapped back to reality as the gravity of the situation reasserted itself. "Hey, are you really leaving?"

"Yeah," Sanosuke confirmed. "But I'll make sure this isn't good-bye for life. Just be sure you'll get a couple of kids to show me when I get back."

Kaoru blushed furiously at Sanosuke's brash and unnecessary statement... the uncouth pig. "W-W-What are you saying?"

Sanosuke belly-laughed at Kaoru's reaction. "Don't act so innocent. Yahiko, you'd better give those two some privacy and get out of the dojo. I'll give you my longhouse," he further quipped despite Kaoru's alarmed exclamations.

Yahiko paused for a bit at Sanosuke's wisecrack. His voice didn't have a hint of amusement in it as he turned towards the older man heatedly, yelling, "What am I supposed to do?"

"What?" Sanosuke asked, puzzled at Yahiko's reaction.

"You're just going to run off with your tail between your legs and let them have their way? What if Tani hasn't learned his lesson? What if he tries something again? What is that 'evil' mark on your back for, anyway?" Yahiko ranted.

"If you think that, then you kinda got an 'evil' mark on your back too," Sanosuke remarked offhandedly.

"Huh?" Yahiko detailed.

"You don't get it? In other words," Sanosuke started, patting Yahiko on the head, "Kenshin isn't the only one I expect great things from."

Yahiko contemplatively mulled over that comment as Kenshin and Sanosuke slapped hands, exchanging brief but meaningful good-byes to each other like the close friends that they are. The youngster continued to brood even as Sanosuke had finally cast away, a tiny figure in the horizon of endless blue. Up until nighttime, he appeared meditative as he stayed at the abandoned longhouse.

He repeated the words in his disbelieving mind until he finally accepted their suggested meaning.

"Kenshin isn't the only one I expect great things from."

And so time passed.

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

_I've been meaning to do this for a long time._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Roots**

* * *

"Acting Master Myojin Yahiko coming through."

As Yahiko more-than-a-little-haughtily entered the rather prosperous-looking Kamiya Dojo, he saw a little boy... the spirit and image of Kenshin... sitting on the roof while bawling his eyes out.

"Not again, Kenji. You climbed up and got too scared to climb down?" Yahiko asked, his eyes half-lidded in disdain.

'He's like a little kitten,' Yahiko thought as he hooked his shinai onto the back of Kenji's robe and swung him down. The toddler went limp, relieved.

Yahiko sweated bullets. "You may look like a little Kenshin, but you're really just a little idiot. I don't know how you're going to carry on the dojo..." His sermon was cut short after a sandal hit him on the face.

"Hey! Quit picking on my son, or I'll really get mad!" an all-too-familiar voice admonished. Yahiko inwardly groaned.

"Who's picking on him? I saved him!" Yahiko retorted as he swung an excited and gurgling Kenji towards a very irate Kaoru Kamiya. Kenji held himself out in order to be picked up by his mother as he purred in delight. 'It's just as I've thought. The kid's half-cat.'

Kaoru Kamiya, self-proclaimed Kenjutsu Beauty and Master of the Kamiya Kasshin School, blinked at Yahiko. "Oh, so you did." To Kenji, she asked, "Were you scared? I'm so sorry," as she took the little five year old unto her arms.

"You should be apologizing to me," Yahiko intoned flatly.

An apology was offered to Yahiko, but from a different source and for a different reason. "Yahiko, I'm sorry to call you out here in this heat." It was just a few simple words, but the presence behind them was unmistakable. They came from the Meiji Patriot once known as the Legendary Hitokiri Battousai.

"Kenshin," Yahiko addressed. 'What is this all about?'

As they went inside the dojo, Yahiko did a once-over at the wall decorated with a large number of students' nameplates; Kaoru was listed as Master, Yahiko and Yutaro were Assistant Masters, and Kosaburo Shinichi and Outa Higashidani were top-ranking students. Yahiko quickly turned towards Kenshin again, his eyes quizzical.

"What is it? If you want to arrange for outside practice at a new dojo, I could..."

Kenshin suddenly went into stance, his hand at his sword's hilt. "Take your stance, Yahiko. A one-point match. All right?"

The young kendo master was startled beyond words, his face ashen with a look of pure, genuine shock. Kaoru stepped forward and shook him out of his trance.

"Yahiko, have you forgotten what day it is today? Today is your fifteenth birthday. Haven't you ever heard that warriors long ago were recognized as men when they became fifteen?"

Yahiko recalled a memory of long ago, of Sanosuke telling him something important.

"It's called genpuku. It's what you're aiming for as a swordsman. Remember that."

Yahiko furrowed his eyebrows. 'This is my... coming of age? So that's it. Kenshin is testing me to see if I've truly become a man. But those instincts! That presence! Even if he hardly ever uses the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu anymore, he's the greatest living swordsman there is; a true legend! How could I possibly measure up?' he mentally debated to himself.

Kenshin, as if sensing Yahiko's hesitation, suddenly turned to the young lad and then smiled reassuringly. "Don't be afraid. You've resolved to follow the path of the sword. Remember all the battles of your life. The battles you've seen with your eyes. The battles you've heard with your ears. The battles you've embraced with your own skill and all the battles you carry within you. If you concentrate all your strength behind that one blow, it will be enough."

'Remember the battles.' Yahiko suddenly envisioned a kaleidoscope of all the warriors... all fighting for their respective reasons... that he'd seen over the years. He afterwards prepared his own stance.

Kenshin nodded in approval. "It will be enough. Kaoru?"

While still holding Kenji, Kaoru swiftly stepped forward with one arm raised high. "Begin!" she announced as she let her arm drop. Within a split second, with their unbendable forces of will and determination behind their respective strikes, Kenshin and Yahiko charged at each other.

Kaoru's heart skipped a beat with the sheer intensity of the two swordsmen's strikes. She took pause at the motionless fighters as she surveyed the results of the match. "It's... a draw?"

Kenshin's sword had hit Yahiko on the side, but Yahiko's sword had caught Kenshin on the shoulder. Alas, the boy's sword ultimately fell on the floor as he dropped to his knees from the force of the sakabatou's blow.

Yahiko chuckled. "Heh. I guess I couldn't measure up."

"Hmmm. But it was a good blow. Can you stand?"

"I guess so," Yahiko replied as he politely refused Kenshin's hand while trying to get up on his own.

Kenshin and Kaoru briefly exchanged glances. Then, beyond all of Yahiko's expectations, he suddenly saw the sakabatou held out for him.

"Yahiko, this is a gift for your coming of age celebration. Take it!" Kenshin offered, a half-melancholic smile on his face as he held out his present for the Tokyo Samurai descendant.

"What? Wait! Wait a minute! I can't take that! First of all, I lost!" Yahiko protested.

"I wasn't concerned with who won or lost," Kenshin clarified. "I only wanted to see if your whole soul was behind your attack. When I saw that it was, I made up my mind. Take it."

Kenshin held out the sakabatou again, and this time Yahiko accepted it. 'It's heavy,' the teenager thought to himself in wonder.

Again, it seemed that Kenshin was reading Yahiko's mind. "You may find it heavy and hard to use at first, but you'll learn to wield it with your own strength. And someday you'll surpass me with it."

Yahiko nodded, smiling. "Right!"

As he raced out the gates, memories started illuminating his psyche. He went past them like lanterns in a midnight passage of a New Year's festival. His vision eventually culminated into one memory that spurred him into making something out of himself... the memory that made him into a man.

It was the memory of him running after Kenshin and Sanosuke but somehow never catching up. This time, as his lungs burned with a passion that flared into his very soul, he finally caught up with them.

This time, in his mind's eye, he was now running alongside them, keeping up with them as they went towards their unknown destinations together.

Curiously, in Yahiko's vision, as soon as he had already caught up with the two fighters, he suddenly went off in another direction when the first fork in the road appeared, treading his own path at last.

* * *

On the 17th year of the Meiji, in the year 1884, Yahiko, for lack of a better, descriptive word, was left awestruck. What could possibly give pause to Yahiko Myojin, Acting Master of the Kamiya Kasshin Dojo, Master of a Thousand Shirahadori?

'I'm holding it,' Yahiko grumpily reflected to himself, responding to his own mental debate. He gently fingered the leather coverings of the hilt of Kenshin's... no, _his_ sakabatou. It was now his reverse-edged sword. He proceeded to wrap a cloth around it for posterity's sake.

He sighed sullenly. Yutaro Tsukayama, his lifelong rival and childhood friend, had already poked fun at his unwillingness to practice with the sword, saying that he was too "dumbstruck with awe" to perform strikes with _Kenshin's_ sword, having it wrapped up in a bundle like a newborn baby.

'Yeah, well Cat Eyes says a lot of things. He's just a loudmouth jerk who's jealous he didn't get an awesome sword like I did. I've practiced with the sakabatou. I'm even getting used to the weight and stuff. I just need to _get the feel_ of the sword more. Yeah, that's it.'

He proceeded to tie up the cloth-wrapped package as even more ideas concerning the gravity of the situation and the great burden of responsibility that was now thrust upon his shoulders invaded the privacy of his mind. Endless questions composed mostly of "whys" aggravated him to no end. All this, he wouldn't even admit to himself; no, not Yahiko the Strong, Yahiko the Acting Master of the Kamiya Kasshin School. This was beyond him. He wasn't ten years old anymore, after all.

However, even when his most ardent of reasoning failed him... when his own gutsy, angst-filled front was for naught... another voice in his head guided him. It had always calmed him down and let him contemplate. It permeated within his awareness like no other.

It was Kenshin's voice and words that broke down the barrier within his mind; the very voice that cut through his muddled, confused, and chaotic maelstrom of thoughts; the very words that he etched within his own heart as his mantra of existence.

"The Kamiya Kasshin School is a school of the sword that protects life. It is the sword wielded for people, to protect. One sword can protect you, or make two destinies. If you fight and lose with such a sword, you have not fulfilled your destiny to protect yourself. The practitioner of the sword that protects life cannot allow failure. Let only this be engraved on your mind."

"With my sword, I'll make it my destiny to protect. I will not allow failure," was Yahiko's answer then, as it still was now.

"Unbelievable. Has it already been a year since Kenshin gave me the sakabatou for my fifteenth birthday? For my genpuku, the swordsman's coming of age?" Yahiko muttered to himself, hefting the precarious load with both hands. "It seems like it was only yesterday."

He looked at his precious bundle one more time before he took off, memories again flooding through the figurative canals of his mind.

* * *

"This is going to be a bit difficult." Yahiko sighed. It took him a long time... a year's time, in fact... to finally make up his mind on his decision. It was very atypical of him, being a man who acted on the spur of the moment, his choices always determined in an impulsive and impassioned manner. However, this was the sort of resolution that demanded a conscientious assessment of circumstances.

'Come to think of it, I really haven't thought things through, have I?' Yahiko pondered morosely as Kaoru greeted him at the gates of the Kamiya Dojo.

"Yahiko? Wow. It's been... what? Three months? Come right in, you dummy. You look out of sorts. It's probably from all that training you're doing. Are you still insisting on that silly notion of fusing Kamiya Kasshin Ryu and Hiten Misturugi Ryu together as one technique? It's ludicrous, I tell you. Say, what's with you bundling up the sakabatou in cloth? You look like a street peddler."

Yahiko blinked several times before he was able to finally follow Kaoru's desultory diatribe. He coughed once before responding to her last query. "That's what I wanted to talk about. And I _don't_ look like a street peddler. Is Kenshin in?"

Kaoru nodded. "He's out back doing the laundry."

"Typical. Even as husband and wife, Kenshin is still the housekeeper," Yahiko mumbled.

Kaoru pinched Yahiko's left ear for that comment. "Hey! I heard that! I'll have you know that I'm a perfectly good housewife, thank you very much!"

"Oops, did I say that aloud?" Yahiko idly wondered to himself, then to Kaoru, he droned, "Really? You're a good housewife?" with a bored expression on his face.

In response to that, Kaoru merely remarked, "Come eat the delicious rice balls I made for lunch to find out! And cut it out with this supposed 'badass' attitude of yours. It doesn't suit you."

Yahiko made a face. "The rice balls that stick to the roof of your mouth _and_ your hands? No thanks. I'd rather have diarrheaAAAHOWW! YOU OLD HAG! YOU RACCOON-WOMAN! STOP THAT!"

Kaoru relinquished her hold of Yahiko's ear. "Hah! How'd you like that, eh? Now the true Yahiko comes out!"

"Whatever. Get off my case," Yahiko flippantly commented as he hid his embarrassed blush. "Let's just get this over with. Is Cat Eyes around?" he asked as he surveyed the inside of the dojo.

Kaoru smacked her fist unto her open palm. "Oh, that's right! I haven't told you yet. Yuta-kun wanted to have a little sabbatical of sorts. His birthday is coming up and he wanted to be with his father in Germany to celebrate. You just missed him. He already took a boat out two days ago."

"Hmmm. It's okay, I guess," Yahiko considered, shrugging. "I'm thinking you could tell him whenever he comes back."

"Tell Yutaro what, Yahiko?" Kenshin queried as he serenely walked into the yard. "It has been a long time. How are your Revisal Techniques coming?"

"They're coming along real great," Yahiko proudly informed as he puffed up his chest in apparent triumph. "All I really need to do now is develop a basic maneuver that I could use as a foundation to form the rest of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu Revisal Techniques, just as you've suggested, Kenshin," the young man excitedly related.

"That's big talk from a guy who used to be a pickpocket street punk," Kaoru insisted, raising an eyebrow. "I think it's just your arrogance talking. Besides, both Yuta-kun and I agree that the development of your dubious techniques is basically an exercise in futility."

Yahiko audibly growled at the assessment. "It is not! Besides, Yutaro is behind me by one year! I've already mastered Kamiya Kasshin Ryu and the Kamiya Kasshin Succession Techniques when I was just ten! I even heard that I have hold of the entirety of Eastern Japan! What does _he_ know?" In the background, Kenshin sweatdropped.

"As a matter of fact, Yuta-kun is doing quite well with his kata and the various forms of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, Mister 'I'm so good that I've mastered this form on the first try, so I can skip this and go to the next one,'" Kaoru shot back in Yutaro's defense. "I admit, you have a talent in learning and understanding techniques so fast that you could develop them in various ways. But as your master, it's my job to guide you, advise you, and tell you off whenever you get out of line."

"I don't get you, Kaoru! Why are you so opposed to me trying to improve our school's techniques?" Yahiko demanded in an infuriated tone. "Kenshin seems to approve! I don't see the problem with trying to fuse those two styles together! I know I can do it and I can prove it! Cat Eyes knows that, even though he's not willing to admit it! He doesn't know what he's talking about!"

"Don't you talk like that! Even though Yuta-kun has a noticeable limp on his injured arm, he at the very least has great fortitude and perseverance! He probably practices at least ten times harder whenever he couldn't get a technique right. He repeats a technique over and over until he perfects it, and I can tell you right now that his determination is far better than a year's worth of technique advancement!"

"Quit harping on me! That's beside the point! The Revisal Techniques aren't about that! Go ahead with your favoritism of Yutaro for all I care!" Yahiko tactlessly spouted, giving Kaoru pause.

"Now, now; why can't we all get along?" Kenshin cooed at the argumentative duo. "You're saying things you don't really mean."

"After six years, you still act like an immature child. You're still behaving like a ten-year-old brat! Unbelievable! Is this the important thing you wanted to talk about?" Kaoru questioned as she went on with her tirade, recovering from her initial shock.

It was now Yahiko's turn to hesitate. "I was just about to get to that!" he said as his eyes darted from left to right, avoiding eye contact from either Kaoru or Kenshin.

The wind chime hanging on the wooden ceiling tinkled as wayward leaves started falling to the ground, accentuating the color of the late morning sky.

"Oh my goodness! I almost forgot! The groceries! We don't have anything to eat for dinner! The market is about to close soon, and if I don't hurry, I won't make it!" Kaoru cried out after she finally realized the time. "I have to go! Kenshin, take care of Kenji so he won't wake up! When he finds out I'm already gone, he'll be sure to start wandering around again, looking for me!"

"Of course, dear," Kenshin blissfully nodded, though there was a crease between his eyebrows as he sweatdropped at his wife's rather animated state.

Kaoru turned towards Yahiko. The youth immediately tensed his body, his eyes staring in askance and defiance... in other words, Yahiko's typical fearless gaze.

"I have no problems with whatever techniques you're trying to develop. It's just that, as my father had lectured to me many times before, in improving kenjutsu techniques, you have to realize that you're also developing ideals and beliefs... extensions of your personality, even. With that said, I'll have to be blunt: I don't think you'll be creating any worthwhile skills worthy of the name 'Kamiya Kasshin' if they're made through arrogance and pride. Your resolve has to be deeper than that."

Yahiko just stood there, his eyes still defiant, but not a word slipped out of his mouth. He merely responded with a nod.

Kaoru sighed. "I guess that's good enough a response from a 'tough guy' like you, Yahiko. I'll be going now, Kenshin... Yahiko. Remember to not wake Kenji up, okay?" And so off she went, already making her way out of the gates, a basket and a wad of cash in hand.

Only after this did Yahiko realize that something was amiss. "Dammit, I wasn't able to tell the old hag about it!"

"Please, Yahiko. Stop calling Kaoru that. She's my wife and the mother of my child," Kenshin reprimanded slightly. "Now, what was it that you wanted to talk about?"

Yahiko shuffled his foot a bit as he gathered up his courage to reply. 'Why the heck am I being so wishy-washy about this? I've already decided, haven't I?' But beyond the voice in his head, a deeper, intuitive voice suggested that perhaps he wasn't so certain after all; that he really didn't want to...

Again, Yahiko quelled his subconscious doubts as he worked up the nerve to finally reveal his pensive intentions. "Kenshin, after you gave me the sakabatou and that speech about how I've realized my coming of age and all, I've been thinking, _asking_ myself, 'What now?'" He looked up to see Kenshin deeply pondering his points, an unsaid atmosphere of graveness in the air because the elder swordsman probably had an idea of where this conversation was heading.

Yahiko looked at the ground, coughing a bit before continuing, "I was thinking that maybe I have to find my own answer. I mean, the way you and Aoshi did. To do that..."

The pitter-patter of little feet made their way into the yard, a tiny shadow mischievously hiding amongst the bushes upon seeing two familiar people whom he could play with later. He giggled in anticipation.

Kenshin smiled faintly as he noticed the little figure hiding nearby, but that smile suddenly turned into an outright scowl as pain shot through the very core of his being, his surroundings abruptly bearing irrelevance to him.

The tiny figure was curious as to what game the redhead was playing. He kind of disliked the tall redhead, always cutting in on his mama's attention, but his larger counterpart's sudden nap also piqued his inquisitiveness. Was the game any fun? It didn't look like the redhead was having any fun, though.

Yahiko exhaled a calming breath yet again, oblivious to the current state of affairs. "So in order for me to find myself, I've decided to go away and travel for a bit... and not just for a training trip. I'll always be thankful for the lessons you've taught me, and I'll remember them as I go on to my designated path. However, I feel that I must leave in order for me to find my own answer." Yahiko subsequently looked at Kenshin. "Do you understand...? Dammit, what's happening to you, Kenshin? Hey, Kenshin! KENSHIN!"

In Yahiko's panic, he wasn't able to take note of the frantic scampering of tiny sandals as a small silhouette made his way out of the Kamiya Dojo, trying to search for motherly solace that was not readily present.

* * *

"So you've finally woken up. You really scared the hell out of me. Can you tell me what's going on?" Yahiko 'greeted' the half-awake Kenshin.

"How long have I been out of it?" Kenshin inquired as he rubbed his temples. He noticed that he was now resting on a spare futon. It had probably been a while since he passed out, he reckoned.

"Not long, about an hour or so. Do you have any idea what's going on? Mind filling me in? Maybe I should call the local doctor or something. Kaoru should know about this. Maybe you should contact Megumi if this goes on in the long run," Yahiko started to ramble.

Kenshin waved him off. "No, no. It's quite all right. Kaoru already knows. They were mostly just dizzy spells before, though. We already planned on contacting Megumi this coming New Year's celebration and reunion. I guess I really should have slept instead of keeping patrol of the house all night long."

Yahiko quirked an eyebrow at that. "So it was your fault that you got a major dizzy spell? But still, that was _some_ dizzy spell."

Kenshin chuckled lightly. "I guess. But you have to understand, as a former hitokiri, I used to have sleepless nights for weeks on end. My death matches with both Shishio and Enishi had probably taken a lot out of me."

"That sounds about right, although it's probably best to have Megumi examine you before that sickness of yours becomes worse," Yahiko considered before his eyebrows shot up as a question surfaced in his mind. "Why _were_ you patrolling the dojo in the middle of the night?"

Kenshin shrugged. "Call it a swordsman's intuition or just plain and simple paranoia, but I get the feeling that someone's been spying on us for the past few weeks."

Yahiko pondered over that tidbit of information. "I don't doubt your intuition. Tell you what: I'll be keeping an eye out too." He did a mental double-take. 'What the hell am I saying? I'm supposed to tell them that I'm planning to leave! Instead, I've been going around in circles, avoiding the main issue. I really, _really_ have to do this.'

To Kenshin, he asked, "So are you sure you're all right? If you need anything, I'll be staying here." Afterwards, he metaphorically whacked himself upside the head. 'You idiot! 'I'll be staying here,' you say. You're supposed to leave as soon as possible!' he mentally berated himself.

"I am a bit worried about Kenji. I sensed him a while back in the yard. He was already awake," Kenshin mentioned in a concerned tone. "Is he okay? Where is he now?"

As the words finally registered in Yahiko's brain, his body reacted immediately. He frantically ran all over the dojo, scouring every nook and cranny, every hole and crevice, for a certain legendary swordsman's son. "Kenji! Where are you? I can't believe I forgot about Kenji!"

"Oro? He's not in here?" Kenshin queried, his voice's pitch slightly higher than normal. "Yahiko, where could he be? Kaoru's not going to like this."

Yahiko panted heavily as he looked at Kenshin's prone figure. He began to apologize profusely. "I'm sorry, Kenshin. Don't worry, I'll find Kenji. I have no doubts; he went outside this time. He has done this before. Just hang on tight and rest for a bit. I'll get him back before Kaoru gets home."

Kenshin looked at his present condition and sighed. "I'm putting my life into your hands, Yahiko," he half-joked. "I'm so sorry that you have to be involved in all of this. I mean, you're just a guest and Kenji is my responsibility."

Yahiko waved Kenshin off. "There's no need to fret. You're in no shape to go out and about in town right now. Besides, it seems that it's my lot in life to save that little stray from harm." Having said that, the young samurai grabbed the cloth-wrapped sakabatou and went off into the lazy orange afternoon.

* * *

"So what have you found out for us?" a middle-aged man of medium stature yet strong build addressed the rugged man wearing traditional ninjutsu garments.

"It seems that the man known as Battousai is beginning to water down as he aged. He has been a bit lax lately, letting his guard down for hours on end. It's certainly a lot worse than the state he was in just a year ago," the practitioner of the dark arts confirmed in a menacingly smooth baritone voice. His eyes were hidden from plain view under the shadow of his flat, woven hat as he concentrated on cleaning his two blades. "What are your plans now?"

The brawnier man chuckled, playing with the slowly dripping candle wax with the tips of his calloused fingers, not at all minding or feeling the supposed burning sensation from the hot liquid because of his hand's deadened sense of touch. He craned his neck towards the light, revealing old scars around the appendage: scars from the past. He pointed at them, almost as if they were war trophies of some sort.

"These were scars I got when I fought with Battousai all those years ago," the man stated, an insane grin on his lips akin to the wild sneer of a rabid dog. "I have never forgiven him for that. He calls himself the Hitokiri Battousai. Well, I'm the Hitokiri Gasuke, the Premiere Assassin of the Yakuza! After six years, I can finally serve my divine retribution upon that pathetic swordsman and his family!"

The ninja's lips curved at Gasuke's declaration. "Six years? I didn't know that the yakuza acted so slow whenever they exacted revenge. I'm under the impression that you worked faster than that."

"It wasn't because we were slow or anything! It was more the boss's fault," Gasuke scoffed, banging the table before him and rattling the candleholders a bit. "It was Tanishi's fault; the fat, old coot got scared of a stupid manslayer. A 'true' hitokiri, he says. Ha. What is it to you anyway, Takae?"

"I think your boss had a lot of practical sense in him," Takae appraised offhandedly, adding, "Even though it would seem that the Battousai's skills have become rusty because of his age, his kenki... his swordsman's spirit and presence... remains strong. I couldn't even begin to imagine what sort of demon he was five years ago, or even ten or fifteen years ago, when he was still the famed, cold-blooded hitokiri."

"I think both you and the old man give him way too much credit," Gasuke sneered contemptuously. "Besides, come next midnight, he'll be fish food, just like our good old friend, Tanishi."

There was a fanatical glint in the yakuza's eyes as he spoke to the prone, bloodied figure of his former superior. "Isn't that right, boss?" His maddened laugh reverberated inside the enclosed space.

Takae casually went back to his sordid task of cleaning his bloodied daggers. "The fat old man spurted dirty blood. It'll rust my kunai faster than salt water if I don't completely clean it off," the aged assassin complained with a disgusted tone.

"Heh. Just shut up and do as I say, and you'll be compensated well." Gasuke furrowed his brow in concern. "We yakuza had to look elsewhere to continue our activities, trafficking opium to far off places just to get away from that Battousai. He's so tightly knit to this community of his that if anyone here gets hurt, there'll be hell to pay. But now that he's so decrepit that he's already getting dizzy spells at such a relatively young age, it's now a prime opportunity for us to strike!"

Takae looked at Gasuke before speaking. "What about that boy that was once in employment with you? The one named Myojin Yahiko? Many street gangs are afraid of him. Some even say he has control of the entirety of Eastern Japan."

Gasuke laughed long and hard. "That little runt, Yahiko? I knew him ever since he was just a little waste of sperm living off the shit of the 'New Age of Enlightenment' of the Meiji Government. I even got a taste of his old lady." He made a face in remembrance. "The old, sickly whore! I knew it was a waste of money."

Takae coolly ignored the squalid words coming off of Gasuke's mouth as he carefully regarded the situation further. "The Battousai trusted the boy enough to give him his sword."

"The Battousai gave the boy the sword because the declining old fool couldn't use it anymore!" Gasuke bellowed. "Street gangs are nothing compared to an organized criminal group! Besides," he paused briefly as he fingered a pistol underneath his hakama, "nothing could possibly stop hot lead from ripping through human flesh! Not a weakened, fragile Battousai, and definitely not a street urchin pretending to be some sort of great samurai warrior! Haha... Takae, where are you going?"

"Somewhere else," the shinobi tersely replied, suddenly disappearing into the shadows as he waved his cloak around himself with a flourish. "I felt a strong spirit in my bones. The essence of battle awaits me!" His baritone voice resonated inside the room long after he disappeared.

"Feh. Stupid ninjas and their philosophical mumbo-jumbo," the self-proclaimed yakuza boss scoffed. "Ah, but it doesn't matter. By the stroke of midnight next evening, I will have my vengeance. I'll rape the woman, mutilate the child, make Battousai eat hot lead, and then send the street urchin to hell with his whorish mother and loser father!" he enumerated, slurring the rest of his words as he went to a state of drunken stupor.

* * *

Yahiko waited patiently outside the Akabeko as Tsubame Sanjo, a girl about his age sporting shoulder-length raven hair and a generally cheerful disposition, was just finishing her shift in the restaurant. She smiled as she warmly greeted the spike-haired boy. "Yahiko-kun, what a pleasant surprise! I thought you'd be out practicing for that special technique of yours, as usual."

Yahiko embarrassedly scratched the back of his head. "It's coming along nicely so far. At least, I think so."

Tsubame beamed at Yahiko. "That's good. I'm so happy for you, Yahiko-kun." She paused for a bit. "What's wrong? You don't look so good." Yahiko bowed his head down as though he were begging Tsubame for something. "I was irresponsible. I neglected to look after Kenji while Kaoru went to the market, and... he ran away, looking for his mama. Have you seen him? Did he somehow find his way here at the Akabeko? I have got to find him soon before Kaoru gets back, or else there'll be trouble. I don't think that he had gotten very far."

"I'll ask Tae-san if she has seen him. You can go look around at the houses near Kenshin-san's residence in the meantime. Where can we meet afterwards?" Tsubame suggested, the gravity of the situation readily apparent to her.

"We should wait for each other here, in front of the Akabeko. I'm sure Kenji could be anywhere in the marketplace, but since he can easily stick out like a sore thumb with that hair of his, I don't think we'll have a problem spotting him. Just remember to look for a little Kenshin, and we'll be fine. See you," Yahiko instructed as he went off to one of the nearby stalls.

'Yahiko-kun, you're really worried about Kenji-chan. Even though you say that finding him isn't that much of a problem, you look frantic,' Tsubame supposed, wistfully smiling. 'You always did wear your heart on your sleeve, Yahiko-chan.'

As Tsubame made her way back to the Akabeko, Yahiko berated himself once again. 'I guess I really couldn't tell her about my planned 'untimely' departure just now. I can't just casually say, 'Oh, and I'm going away for a long time and I'm not quite sure when I'm coming back because I'm just trying to find myself and stuff,' now can I? But dammit, she's the last person I want to say good-bye to. Should I really go? Am I really prepared to go?'

A crying noise; a very recognizable weeping sound that was similar to a cross between a bird chirping and a cat being strangled... at least, that was the way Yahiko heard it... was heard just a few yards away, right across a familiar wooden bridge.

Yahiko narrowed his eyes as realization struck him. 'Kenji.'

* * *

Sitting on one side of a wooden bridge overlooking a river caressed by a quickly descending sun was Kenji, who was slowly edging away from a crowd of curious onlookers as they gathered around him.

"Mama. Whe's mama?" Kenji half-pleaded to the faceless throng. Their appeals of comfort and calm fell upon deaf ears because they said words that held no meaning to him. Only the familiar voice of his mother could calm him down as he suddenly wailed even louder.

He needed the comfort of his mama's voice and his mama's words to deal with the words that had hurt him so bad. He didn't fully understand everything the tall, spike-haired boy had said, but he did recognize at least two of the words. It had a simple meaning that he just recently learned from his mother and from the redhead who was incidentally his father.

"Mama, whe'd the wedhead go?" he asked one night since he couldn't go to sleep because his mother seemed so sad and distracted.

His mother grinned and laughed. He was glad that he was able to make her smile again even as that bad redheaded man made her look funny once more by giving her slight creases in between her eyebrows. "You shouldn't talk about your father like that. Besides, you're a little redhead too!" she chirped as she tickled the diminutive child.

"But whe'd he go? You look sad," Kenji pouted a bit. The redheaded man was always making his mama miserable.

Kaoru's expression turned melancholic, which gave the youngster pause. He never liked that expression on her face. She spoke softly, carefully choosing her words.

"He had to... go away for a bit because of some very important stuff. I'm sad because I really miss him, but I'll be happy again after he gets back. We should both greet him once he does come back."

Kenji made a face as he pondered his mother's words. "Mama, what does 'go away' mean?"

His mama stroked his red bangs affectionately as she explained, "It's when someone's not here anymore because they're somewhere else."

Kenji fell broodingly silent for a second time. He posed another question to his mama. "What do you say when they not 'go away' anymoh?"

It was now his mother's turn to mull over his words for a bit. Finally, she answered, "That's when people 'come back', Kenji."

Kenji snuggled up to his mother's bosom. "I wish wedhead come back so you not sad anymoh."

Kenji wanted very much to cuddle onto that very bosom right now as the strange and scary people closed in on him. He cried in the same way he did whenever he got stuck on the Kamiya Dojo's roof on numerous occasions. It was a whimper that summoned a recognizable presence every time.

"How'd you get all the way _here_? Uh, excuse me, ma'am. That tyke's mine. Sorry about this."

Kenji's face brightened. He knew that voice. And as the spike-haired shadow descended upon him in the dim luminescence of the afternoon sun, his guess was confirmed. He clamped onto one of the figure's legs tightly.

"Now don't give me that, brat! Kenshin and I were worried sick about you! You shouldn't go running off like that every time Kaoru goes away. You're a big boy now!"

"Why'd spike-hai'd Yahiko go away? You not like us anymoh?" was Kenji's innocent reply.

Yahiko was at a brief loss of words upon hearing the statement. "Kenji. You..."

Kenji shifted to a more cheerful disposition. "But it's okay! Yahiko now come back. Evewything all wight."

Yahiko sighed lengthily as he hefted two cumbersome bundles onto his shoulders... one was the sakabatou, and the other was Kenji. They were both heavy burdens of responsibility that originated from Kenshin one way or the other.

* * *

"Is everything okay? I hope Kaoru-san doesn't find out." Tsubame fretted for a bit as she smoothened her kimono. "It's getting dark."

"Yeah, I know," Yahiko agreed as he slung Kenji over one shoulder like a duffel bag. The young lad, exhausted from crying, was softly snoring. The sky was pitch-black already.

"You probably shouldn't hold Kenji like that. He's not your pet cat, y'know," Tsubame chided.

"He's okay. He's used to it. Anyway, thanks again for your help. I'm sorry for making you stay up so late, though," Yahiko said as he started to make his way back to the Kamiya Dojo. "Good-bye, Tsubame."

"Don't worry, I don't mind. Bye, Yahiko-kun!" Tsubame cheerfully waved at the retreating figure.

Still facing away, Yahiko addressed the girl. "Tsubame."

"Yes?" the girl responded as she gave Yahiko a sidelong glance, her eyes apprehensive as her intuition screamed for her to brace herself.

Yahiko gulped audibly before speaking again. "Uh, nothing. Just be careful, okay?"

Tsubame regarded the young boy earnestly. "You too, Yahiko-kun."

The silence of the night reigned supreme as the two teenagers parted ways, the reticence marred only by the twittering of various insects and the gentle snore of a worn-out toddler.

* * *

"Boy, Kenji! You've gotten heavy," Yahiko muttered to himself as he continued to heft the little boy on his shoulder. "You must have been eating out at the Akabeko more often. I mean, you couldn't have gained weight by eating Kaoru's cooking, right?"

"Spike-haid Yahiko..." Kenji mumbled in his sleep, slightly pouting. "Spiky hai's itchy on my face."

Yahiko cleared his throat. "I'd prefer it if you called me something else, like Yahiko-san or..."

"Big bwotha," Kenji muttered blissfully.

Yahiko exhaled and smiled. "I guess that'll do."

"What the hell are you doing here?" a deep voice slurred from the darkness. Yahiko slowly turned towards the source of the voice. It was from an unkempt-looking man dressed in ragged clothes, smelling of sake. "Get out of the street, punk! I'm walking here."

Yahiko discreetly ignored the drunkard, but was soon surrounded by other men who were in similar states of drunkenness. The boy also cautiously clutched the wrapped-up sakabatou's handle as the inebriated gang flaunted their sword canes. 'Yakuza. This could get really ugly.'

"What's going on?" Kenji drowsily whispered. "Who ah they?"

"Just a bunch of drunken fools whose collective butts are about to get kicked by your big brother. Go back to sleep, Kenji," Yahiko simply ordered.

"What the hell did you just say?" one of the aforementioned thugs demanded as he charged at Yahiko, flinging his sword cane wildly at the teenager's face.

Yahiko didn't even move or react until the gangster's blade was at his face by mere inches. He subsequently struck with the base of his sakabatou's hilt, snapping the man's wrist. Afterwards, he thrust the bundle into the man's armpits, dislocating the limb a bit. "You guys better sober up quickly or else you'll all get a nasty headache come morning."

The hooligans slowly backed away as one of their compatriots howled in pain. Then shouts of "You can't do that to us! We're yakuza!" and "Let's see if he can take us on all at once!" were heard as each of them commenced brandishing their weapons, advancing ominously towards the teenager.

Yahiko hopped away slightly towards a narrower part of the clearing as he hastily dropped Kenji to the ground. "Looks like your little nap's been cut short, Kenji. Go hide behind a tree or something while I play with these yakuza scumbags."

"Okay. Have fun, big bwotha!" Kenji merrily remarked as he hid behind a nearby bush, giggling.

"Come on," Yahiko taunted at the charging hoodlums.

* * *

"Wow! Big bwotha was gweat!" Kenji cheered from his precarious perch on a tree branch.

'How the heck did he climb up so high?' Yahiko deliberated to himself as he retied the cloth bundle of the reverse-edged sword, surveying all the prone figures around him. Half of his attackers had already fled in panic while the remaining half were either too groggy, too injured, or just too drunk to be of any threat.

'Having to beat up a bunch of drunkards? This is a new low for me.' Yahiko made a clucking sound with his tongue. 'Kaoru's obviously back from the market by now, and it's already late. Sorry, Kenshin; it looks like Kaoru's going to give you hell whether you like it or not.'

Yahiko saw from the corner of his eye one of the older yakuza crawling behind him. It seemed that he was the most mature of Yahiko's aggressors, now that the kenjutsu master thought about it. The old hooligan wore a ragged cloak that set him apart from the other ruffians.

"My compatriots... were rather weak." He picked up two sword canes laying on the ground and wielded them like daggers.

'This guy wasn't really drunk!' Yahiko thought in alarm. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is of no consequence to you. It's impressive how you've taken down several people without drawing your sword once, even though your opponents were dead drunk at the time."

The man smiled coldly, putting chills in Yahiko's spine. It reminded him of one of Saito's manic grins.

"Just what is the true measure of your strength?"

Yahiko swiftly turned towards the forty-something hoodlum's direction, gripping his bundled-up sword tightly, prepared for anything as the man suddenly... disappeared? 'What in the world?'

"Big bwotha, watch out behind you!" Kenji screeched at Yahiko, his arms flailing.

Yahiko reflexively turned, his reaction time too slow as flashes of blue suddenly came upon his back.

"Big bwotha!" Kenji screamed.

Relying on pure instinct and will, Yahiko thrust the tip of the cloth-wrapped sakabatou towards his side, intending to gut his opponent as he used the recoil to put some breathing space between him and his attacker. But as soon as he executed the maneuver, said adversary had already vanished again.

He bounded a good distance away, carefully regarding the shadowed areas of the paved road near the surrounding woodlands. He put his back on the tree trunk near the branch where the crying Kenji was hanging. "Hey, it's all right. I'm not hurt. You can stop crying now."

Kenji sniffled for a bit. "Weally?"

Yahiko gave Kenji a token nod.

"What are you doing?" a voice sinisterly mocked, the branch where Kenji was suspended suddenly cut.

Kenji didn't even have time to scream out as he rapidly fell onto the ground below.

With no time left to think, Yahiko acted on impulse, swinging his bundle half-blindly at the brief glint of light that cut through the tree branch. His strike hit true as he heard the resonant thud of a blade on his cloth-wrapped sword.

"Kenji, run away!" Yahiko commanded at the very startled toddler as he finally unleashed his offensive upon his unknown enemy, not able to spare any time to check if whether or not the child obeyed.

"Your kenjutsu is of decent caliber, but I really couldn't tell with your sword still sheathed. Perhaps we should raise the ante of the fight a little?" the old man proclaimed threateningly as he blocked each and every one of Yahiko's strikes, neutralizing the adolescent's counteroffensive.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **Resolutions and departures.

_Wow. I was really meaning to write this for a long time; I even had an entire mockup and all prepared for it. I'm kind of glad I wrote it too. And even though this is going to be more of an action-oriented fic, there will be a bit of space for romance, drama, and the occasional comedic moment. _

**Ja ne!_  
_**Abdiel


	2. Chapter 2

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

It is now time for the gratuitous fight scene chapter.

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Farewells**

* * *

Yahiko's eyes widened as the man before him suddenly flickered into nonexistence. He didn't know what to expect as he saw a horizontal flash of light shimmer over his abdomen, ripping his upper garment open while he was nearly gutted like a fish.

The older man flickered back into reality. "It seems that I was the one to draw first blood," he derided.

Yahiko clutched his exposed abdomen as he felt stinging, wet warmth in his fingers. He winced as he regarded his opponent carefully. 'This man's good. He's definitely no ordinary street thug,' he begrudgingly determined. 'In fact, his stance and abilities are all very reminiscent of Aoshi's skills with the double kodachi. I know it's essentially different on an aesthetic level, but on a more fundamental sense, they're very much alike. It's as if they're both... That's it!'

"Hey. You're a ninja, aren't you?" Yahiko concluded.

The man chuckled at that. 'He's sharper than Gasuke claimed. This young man isn't just a scruffy street urchin.' He smirked a bit at Yahiko before his silhouette again wavered into nothingness.

Yahiko growled audibly. "You can't use the same trick on me twice!" He unwrapped the cloth around his sword, unsheathing the sakabatou and throwing the fabric at the supposed ninja's way in two movements.

The fabric was immediately ripped and torn apart by an invisible force. 'You can't use cheap tricks on me, boy. As a ninjutsu master, I know all of them!' the ninja thought disdainfully.

Yahiko frowned in contemplation as he went into Jodan-no-Kamae stance, fully feeling the kenki of his opponent. 'Should I use it now?' he mentally debated. 'Should I use that experimental strike I learned from developing the Revisal Techniques?'

The burning sensation in his gut, the early signs of fatigue in his eyes, the glint of the blades coming towards him, and the urgency of finding Kenji at the back of his mind had already made his decision for him.

The shredded pieces of cloth dispersed into a circular pattern as the three blades collided. A reverberating clang of metal was heard from yards on end as the sakabatou vibrated like the well-taut string of a biwa. The sword canes clattered loudly on the ground, their edges chipped away because they were not able to withstand the superior craftsmanship of Shaku's last creation.

Yahiko drew ragged breaths as he examined the situation. Aside from the broken weapons, metal shards, and wooden splinters scattered across the dirt, there was no sign of his enemy. He braced himself just in case he was faced with yet another one of the ninja's tricks, but he could feel no particular battle aura being emitted around the area. Only groaning, moaning, and prone drunkards littered the landscape that he was currently standing on. He exhaled a breath of relief.

Yahiko then smacked his forehead after a very important issue came to mind. 'Kenji!'

* * *

"You WHAT?" Gasuke raged as a pulsating vein popped out of his forehead. "Have you gone insane? What if the boy found us out and warned Battousai? The police might get involved!"

"I said I was testing the boy to see if he was as weak as you claimed him to be. This changes nothing," Takae insisted in a calm and collected manner using a menacing undercurrent in his voice that promptly silenced the ranting yakuza boss.

"M-My men were given a bum rap because of your little stunt last night. I don't want a repeat happening tonight... not while everything is finally coming into place," Gasuke countered, although his behavior was more subdued than before.

"Your 'boys' were a bunch of impudent fools who needed to get drunk just so they could gather enough courage to fight your so-called 'street urchin,'" Takae scoffed.

"I paid good money for you, you lowlife scum!" Gasuke whined more than screamed, inching away from the ninja. He had seen how effective Takae was at dispatching his old boss, using some sort of 'invisibility' trap that was very hard to figure out. He fiddled under his clothing for his pistol, bracing himself for anything despite his painful hangover.

"There are no more ninja nowadays. They've all died from various wars during the revolution. And you know what? Nobody really gives a shit! Without the yakuza, you'll just be a two-bit thug hired for petty jobs and the like! Learn your place!" Gasuke spat, wincing a bit as his throbbing migraine ripped through his cranium once more.

The mobster backed away a few inches, his grip firm on his firearm as he saw Takae's eyes flash back at him. "Are you with us or not?"

Takae seemed to consider Gasuke's stipulation before replying, "It would seem that, for the time being, our agendas are the same."

Gasuke relaxed visibly as he put his hand away from his gun, rubbing his pulsating temples with his other hand as his headache suddenly went up a notch. "Our boys from several other districts will be coming here soon. We've arranged to meet at the docks. From there, we'll go to the Kamiya Dojo and start our mindless massacre. We're going to rid the world of the Battousai once and for all!"

* * *

"What am I going to tell Kenshin and Kaoru now?" Yahiko worriedly muttered to himself as he yet again scoured the streets for any sign of the couple's lost son. He remembered Kaoru's words from before; something about his foolish pride and arrogance, but mostly about the Revisal Techniques being ineffective.

'Ha! Ineffective? I only used one maneuver from it, and it was able to dispatch a freaking ninja! How do you like that, Kaoru?' Yahiko mentally congratulated himself, disregarding the fact that the man did look more like a drunken lout instead of a master of the dark arts. There was also the minor detail of him not really defeating the ninja in the usual sense. He pushed such thoughts out of his head as he noted the power and precision of his deceptively simple strike... the result of many months of hard training with the sakabatou.

'My technique is... infallible. The Hiten Misturugi Ryu and the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu fusion is possible. I'll prove it to them. I can do it,' Yahiko assured himself. 'I'll train and develop my own kenjutsu, and then become the swordsman that I was meant to be... the man that I was meant to be. I have to do that, or else all this talk of genpuku will be just that: talk.'

He rubbed his eyes sleepily, calling out Kenji's name from a nearby alley. 'It's the reason why I have to get out of here. I want to search for my manhood the only way possible; on my own.'

Yahiko called Kenji out again, riling up several dogs in the process. He yawned because he'd been up the whole night, but the rising panic within him put his drowsiness at bay, beckoning him to continue with his endeavor.

'I have to go. I have to...' Yahiko groggily rattled his head as images started to dance in his eyes... visions he had seen before. The dream of him running alongside Kenshin and Sanosuke replayed itself in his mind.

"Kenshin isn't the only one I expect great things from," Sanosuke had confessed to Yahiko, chuckling goodheartedly.

"You'll only be as strong as you want to be, Yahiko," Kenshin had encouraged in his usual cheery manner, smiling.

'I have to follow my own path!' Yahiko's other self went unhesitatingly towards a fork in the road, separating himself from his two other companions. 'I owe it to Sanosuke's expectations; to Kenshin's expectations; to my beloved parents' expectations as well. I have to do this.'

But that apparition of Yahiko suddenly stopped as a very angry Kaoru blocked his path.

"You and your foolish pride! You're so self-assured that you think you can get through anything with a smirk and a swing of a sword! But look at what your conceit did. Now I've lost my son AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Yahiko just froze on the spot as he saw Kaoru suddenly break down and cry. He couldn't even offer her a hand of comfort. Before he noticed, his own self-image had already merged with his consciousness, shifting his point of view as a specter of Kenji briefly flickered before him.

"Wow! Big bwotha was gweat!" Kenji praised before altogether vanishing into nothingness.

Yahiko fell to his knees, his fatigue finally catching up to him. 'Some great swordsman I am. I've failed to protect Kenji and I was barely able to protect myself. I've broken both of my promises to protect. I'm a complete failure as a swordsman.'

Yahiko wept silently, his eyes shimmering with tears he would not allow to fall. "I'm just a big fool." He fiercely rubbed his eyes as he looked around him. Incidentally, he had already made his way back to the Kamiya Dojo during the time he distractedly wandered around.

He braced himself as he dared to enter the compound, wondering briefly if Kenshin and Kaoru were already asleep. 'No. I have to tell them. This is important. What if Kenji was kidnapped by the yakuza or even by that weird ninja guy? They have to know.'

To confirm his suspicions, a chuckling phantom of Kenji again appeared in front of him, screaming, "Big bwotha!" That was before the aforementioned ghost suddenly punched him in the eye.

"Ow! What the heck?" Yahiko yelped in surprise.

Kenji blinked once. "Why big bwotha shocked? You say once that you big boy now, so you told me if eva you sob like baby, be shu to punch you in the eye. So I did that." Kenji blinked further as he was engulfed by the tentative embrace of his foster brother.

"Dammit, where were you? I was looking all over for you the whole night! I thought the yakuza or that crazy man that attacked me with the sword canes got you. What happened?"

Kenji raised an eyebrow; it was a curious mannerism he learned from his mother. "I went home. I know how to go home. I'm fast. You stupid."

Yahiko pinched and stretched the little tot's cheeks. "That's the thanks I get for looking for you in all of Tokyo for the entire night? And what the heck are you doing awake so early in the morning anyway?"

"I dunno about that, but mama weally gave it to daddy last night. Daddy was in big twouble." The little boy snickered at the thought. His features subsequently turned pensive as he confronted Yahiko earnestly. "You not going away anymo, big bwotha?"

Yahiko heaved a forlorn sigh. "I don't know yet. We'll have to wait and see." He looked eastward as beams of light shot through the sky, reassuring him of a new day.

* * *

Tsubame waited patiently at the gates of the Kamiya dojo, worry etched on her soft features.

"Tsubame-chan! What a nice surprise. What brings you here?" Kaoru inquired as she hastily wiped her sweaty forehead. "I'm kind of in the middle of kendo practice with some of my students, so please excuse my appearance."

"I'm so sorry to disturb you, Kaoru-san, but I was sort of wondering," Tsubame dithered, a light blush appearing on her cheeks, "have you seen Yahiko-kun?"

"Oh. Oh! Of course, of course! Tell me, why _are_ you looking for Yahiko?" Kaoru prodded cheerfully.

"Um, we kind of agreed on having dinner tonight at the Akabeko after my shift in the morning, since I won't be working in the afternoon, so it won't be awkward for me to eat and serve at the same time, and..." Tsubame trailed off, her hands on her burning-red cheeks.

"That's perfect! I mean, he's here," Kaoru notified, giggling a bit. "He was up all night last night when he came back to the dojo. It was all because of my husband's negligence. Well, it's nothing important." Her left eyebrow twitched as she nearly snarled at the memory. "He had to catch up on his sleep, and he was too tired to return to his longhouse, so we let him sleep here. He's probably in a futon inside our house right now."

"Well, if he's still sleeping, I really shouldn't..."

"Oh, nonsense! He promised! And he already had his fair share of sleep. He practically snored away the entire morning. He should be awake by now. Come on, let's wake him up!" Kaoru insisted, urging the young girl towards the open yard inside.

"B-But Kaoru-san!" the shy young girl weakly protested.

"Mama! Mama!" Kenji cried out, tears in his eyes as he pitter-pattered towards maternal comfort.

"Huh? Honey, what's wrong?" Kaoru soothed as she gently wrapped her arms around the distressed little kid. "Don't worry, mama's here."

"Mama, big bwotha is gone! It's all my fault! Shouldn't have made him wowwy so much; shouldn't have left him when the bad man attacked!" Kenji sobbed, crying in his mother's bosom.

"Shush, sweetheart. It's not your fault. I'm sure Yahiko is in the dojo somewhere. Maybe he went back to the longhouse or something. There, there. Don't cry."

"That's right, Kenji. There's no need to worry. It's not as if Yahiko's going to leave without telling us," Tsubame reassured.

"But he did told us! At least he twied. He twied to tell daddy, but daddy went to sleep. Mama was away, and I think he's too shy to tell you, Tsubame-neetan," Kenji revealed in vexation.

Kaoru became bewildered by the turn of events, not able to fully follow what her son was trying to say. "Wait. You said that your father suddenly fell asleep? You're not just teasing mama now, are you?" Kenji replied to that with a solemn shake of his head.

'The dizzy spells! Kenshin should've told me sooner. That was why Kenji was able to slip away. Kenshin should stop playing hero and be honest with me for once!' Kaoru mused indignantly, but the rest of her thoughts were suddenly cut short as she heard a thud on the ground.

Tsubame sunk to a crouch, an almost frenetic look on her face. "No. Kenji must have misunderstood. Yahiko-kun never journeyed any further than the Maekawa Dojo; not for the last five years. And he'd never leave without telling... not without saying good-bye. It's all a big misunderstanding."

"Kaoru. Tsubame," Kenshin hailed as he gradually made his way to the patio; he still hadn't fully recovered from his fainting spell yesterday.

"Kenshin, why didn't you tell me you fainted...? What are you holding in your hand?" Kaoru double-took.

Kenshin gave everyone a piercing, poignant look before responding. "It's Yahiko's farewell letter."

* * *

"What was that moron thinking, leaving Tokyo like that?" Kaoru fumed as she reread Yahiko's letter for the seventeenth time. "And half of his sentences don't even make sense. That's what he gets for not paying attention when I taught him how to write, the stubborn fool!"

"Don't be so hard on him. Look, at least his handwriting is better than mine," Kenshin rationalized, holding his hands up in a calming manner.

"Everybody else has better handwriting than you, dear. That's beside the point. Don't tell me you've actually consented to this!" Kaoru waved the letter threateningly at Kenshin, as if she were wielding a shinai or bokuto. "What he did was highly inconsiderate and downright rude! The nerve of that guy! Tsubame was so devastated, she practically cried herself to sleep here in the dojo."

Kaoru observed Tsubame's form in the futon laid side-by-side with Kenji's in the adjoining room, exhaling wistfully. "Poor thing; she was affected the most by that moron's rash and inconsiderate decision."

Kenshin rubbed his forehead before speaking. "I kind of understand Yahiko's side of the story. Ever since he received the sakabatou as his genpuku present, he took it upon himself like it was some sort of great responsibility... which is what it essentially is. He trained and worked harder than ever before. He really took his genpuku seriously. If he really had 'come of age', then he must have something to show for it... thus his belated decision to wander around Japan for a while."

"It still doesn't excuse him for not saying good-bye to everybody! Especially to poor Tsubame-chan," Kaoru persisted adamantly.

Kenshin stared intently at the floor, trying his best not to meet Kaoru's gaze. "Sometimes the hardest thing about parting is the good-byes. They present such strong feelings of regret and an unwillingness to let go, concentrated in one brief moment, that it could almost be enough to... It must've been very hard for Yahiko to come up with the decision already, so long good-byes could've complicated matters."

Kaoru's eyes twinkled in comprehension. 'Of course. It was like Kenshin's good-bye to me before he went to Kyoto.' The couple became silent for an instant as they shared a mutual moment of understanding.

"I guess not saying good-bye has its merits," Kaoru conceded, gently grasping Kenshin's hand with her own. "I'm just saying that it's not like Yahiko to weasel out of his responsibilities like that."

Kenshin absently nodded in assent. "In fairness, it seems that Yahiko and Kenji have gotten closer," he deduced.

"Yeah, they kind of look cute together; like they were really... Honey, what's wrong? Is it another dizzy spell? I'll get some water."

"There are people... a lot of people... outside." Kenshin shook his head. 'I should have sensed them earlier. This 'disease' has robbed me of my swordsman senses.'

"I don't understand. Is there a parade of some sort? In the middle of the night?" Kaoru supposed before halting. "You couldn't possibly mean...?"

Kenshin spoke somberly. "Their sakki are brimming with murderous intent. They're intruders."

Kaoru's face paled. "Intruders?" Then her eyebrows met. "I'll get the spare bokuto. I'm sure you could handle them better with that than a shinai, right?"

Kenshin nodded as both he and Kaoru rose up from the floor, careful not to wake up the two sleeping children.

* * *

"Climb over the gates! Ram them if you have to! I don't care if their neighbors suddenly sounded the alarm or something. Let them! These pathetic Tokyo police couldn't possibly stop my powerful army of yakuza!" Gasuke screamed boisterously at the assembled troop of thirty men. "Not even Battousai can handle all of us. Other than him, there are no other threats! There are just women and children in there, so don't hesitate! Waste them all. You can even have the women for yourselves if you want, but not before the Battousai is dead."

Several of the men had put up long ladders over the dojo walls, while a few had already made it in the inner courtyard.

"You seem sure of yourself, Gasuke," Takae drawled as he unexpectedly appeared from behind the yakuza boss. "I just hope your attitude will not lead to folly or death."

"The old Battousai could have easily taken us out with a few strikes of his sword. He could have sensed us coming even as we're talking at the outside of these gates. But where is he now? He's just a washed-up hitokiri who doesn't even have his own sword to protect himself. I promise you, the Battousai and his family will die tonight," Gasuke guaranteed superciliously as half of his men had already made it within the patio.

Gasuke grinned as the front gate was flung open. He then stared dumbstruck as several of his men flew in the air at various directions and velocities, all landing unceremoniously like rag dolls. "W-Who the hell did this? Battousai? Is that you?"

"I've been called worse," a surprisingly female... and not merely effeminate... voice greeted the yakuza honcho. "I am Kamiya Kaoru, master of this dojo. You have defiled this sacred training ground. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

In the next few seconds, Kaoru gasped as she shakily pointed her bokuto at Gasuke, exclaiming, "You! You're the yakuza scumbag that beat Yahiko up six years ago! Boy, you got uglier as you got older."

"Shut up, bitch! Where's Battousai?" Gasuke glared at his men, who were all frozen like statues. "What are you idiots waiting for? ATTACK HER NOW!"

Many more of Gasuke's men collapsed like puppets whose strings had been cut off. He grimaced; he recognized this familiar scene all too well. "Come out. I already know you're there."

"Hiring entire groups of people to kill off a man, two women, and a child? I know yakuza usually don't prioritize morals, but you scumbags are the lowest of the low," Kenshin lectured, appearing from the side of the open gate as he slipped his wooden sword inside his cloth belt, going into his usual battoujutsu posture.

"There you go again, preaching like some sort of moralist. Well, let's see just how ethical your mouth can get while being fed hot lead!" Gasuke raucously announced as he pulled out his gun.

"Kenshin, watch out!" Kaoru shouted, not taking any chances with her husband's erratic reaction time as the first shot was fired.

The bullet embedded itself in the gateway where the ex-hitokiri had been standing. Kenshin, faster than the eye could blink, was quickly upon Gasuke.

Kaoru heaved a sigh of relief. 'It'll take that yakuza hoodlum a while to reload his single-shot pistol. Kenshin won't even give him the chance, now that he'd dodged the bullet. The danger has passed.'

Kaoru was roused from her reprieve as reverberating clangs and brief glints formed around a cackling Gasuke. 'What's going on? Gasuke's not even moving! I could only see glints and flashes of blades. Whose blades are Kenshin parrying?'

"I have all the time in the world to reload my gun and shoot you at my own leisure. You know why, Battousai?" Gasuke taunted the surprised former assassin. "It's all because of one man. Meet Takae Masahiro, the last remaining ninja of the Takae Clan!"

The yakuza leader subsequently reloaded his gun as Kenshin remained on the defensive, backing away from the mostly invisible ninja whose only proof of existence was his flickering image every now and then as his blades reflected the dim moonlight.

"Kenshin!" Kaoru called out as she tried to help her husband, but numerous yakuza started to surround her, forming a wall between her and the heated battle outside the dojo gates. A myriad of prone figures also got up, taking on a second wind.

"Dammit, get out of my way, you hoodlums! Hold on, Kenshin! Tsuka no Gedan: Hiza Hijiki!" Kaoru declared as she barely avoided her nearest opponent's midsection hack by diving down and breaking his kneecaps with her bokuto's thick handle, effectively disabling him. The battles resumed.

Kenshin backed away ever so slightly as one of his opponent's blades sliced through thin air, splitting one of his bangs. 'An overextension; he's wide open,' he reflected as he turned around and countered with a strike from his notched bokuto.

Kenshin's now-visible adversary skidded a good three yards away from the recoil of the counter-offensive. 'Incredible. So this is how it feels like to be struck down by the great Battousai. The searing pain makes me feel so alive!' Takae chortled to himself.

Kenshin regarded his nemesis briefly before charging forward. 'His effective use of the colors of his garments, in shades that would reflect as little light as possible, complements the cloak he uses. By perfecting movement and balancing his speed, he could execute a nearly perfect invisibility trick that doesn't just rely on shadows and shade. His clothes themselves act as his blanket of shadow. It was effective enough to fool me, even in the moonlight. I won't give him the chance to fool me twice.'

"You barely had a serious fight for over six years. You seldom practice outside of your usual daily kata. Your health has begun to fail you. You even gave away your sword," Takae appraised, looking directly at Kenshin through the rend on his hat. His mostly white eyes glared intently at the ex-vagabond. "But your Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu is still quite formidable. Go ahead and charge! Charge with your best attacks!"

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu: Ryu Sou..." Kenshin started to say, but before he could even bring his nigh-dilapidated wooden sword down, his whole world suddenly spun into turmoil as a startling pain ripped through the very heart of his soul. It exploded from every part of his body; from every pore of his skin. Nothing mattered now except his anguish.

Regardless of how brief his suffering was, what truly worried Kenshin at the back of his mind was the lack of sensation from his surroundings that followed his episode of excruciating torture. He fought against the weightless trance with all the strength he could muster until he was able to discern the blades coming straight for him.

"Hagane Tachi Kai!"

'The Iron Cleaver technique?' Kenshin idly wondered as he prepared to block the strike.

Splinters and shards flew everywhere as the remnants of Kenshin's bokuto fell noisily on the ground.

'Was it my imagination, or did Kenshin hesitate when he charged at that ninja?' Kaoru deliberated as she choked out one of her luckless assailants with her mostly intact bokuto while buried under a makeshift dog pile of yakuza ruffians. Her eyes then bugged out in apprehension. "Kenshin, Gasuke's gun...!"

A gunshot rang out, silencing the boisterous night.

Kenshin, having just awakened from his dangerous reverie, barely evaded the path of the pistol's deadly projectile, grazing his side the way a missed thrust from a sword would.

Gasuke gleefully cackled like a rooster in heat, pulling out a second gun from his coat. "This time I won't miss. DIE!"

* * *

Gasuke saw a brief flash in the corner of his eye prior to feeling the cold bite of blunted steel at the back of his neck.

His pistol misfired, bloodying his hand.

Before he could react enough to flail his arms wildly, he was already flying towards a nearby tree. He then had a sample of what tree bark tasted like.

"What...?" Kaoru mumbled.

"Oro?" Kenshin articulated.

A spike-haired shadow descended upon the potpourri of chaos underneath the light of the moonlit sky. Yahiko Myojin grinned. There was nothing like a good entrance to jumpstart a late night brawl.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to roughen up some guys at the pier and at the old yakuza headquarters where the former boss Tanishi stayed to gather some useful information. And guess what? That guy eating tree bark over there is a usurper. He murdered Tanishi just to get complete control of the organization. Good thing I came here just in time..."

A stray slipper hit Yahiko squarely on the face, silencing him.

"Instead of blabbering there like an idiot, producing more wind than a typhoon," Kaoru growled as she struggled to get up amidst getting tackled by grown men at least twice her size, "you could, oh I don't know, _help us out here_? ACK! I can't believe you touched me there! How dare you! I'm a married woman! Take that! And that! And that!"

'The old hag needs help? It's those poor, pathetic bozos stupid enough to latch onto her that needs help,' Yahiko considered before realizing, 'Oh no. Kenshin and that weird guy with the flat hat and cloak are gone! Wait a second. They must have gone into the dojo.'

One of the punks suddenly pointed a sword at Yahiko's direction. "I remember you! You're the boy who beat us up yesterday!"

"We'll show you what happens to people who mess with the yakuza!"

Yahiko sighed as he prepared himself. 'Wait for me, Kenshin. I'll soon catch up with you, no problem.'

* * *

'He went in here, in the training room. I mustn't let him near Kenji and Tsubame,' Kenshin thought, tensing himself. 'However, I came here in a hurry without a weapon. Oh well. Perhaps I _am_ an overbearing martyr that Kaoru claims me to be.'

"So you came here after all, as predicted. I knew you couldn't resist this obvious trap... trying to protect your loved ones and all. It's so typically _you_," Takae mocked, flickering into existence. "A few stabs here, a few thrown blades there; who knows what could have been the result? Perhaps the return of the old hitokiri, the greatest of all killers? Should I even risk it?"

"For a ninja, you seem pretty talkative," Kenshin scoffed.

"Ah, excuse me for that. It's just very rare for me to get so excited like this," Takae explained maliciously, taking on a completely different appearance from the dispassionate ninja from before.

Before long, Kenshin adopted a different demeanor as well, narrowing his glinting eyes and openly scrutinizing his elusive foe. "You were the one spying on us for days on end for the last two weeks, weren't you?"

"Yes," Takae openly admitted as though he had just noted that the night was dark. "It took a lot of effort to spy on you since you were highly aware of your surroundings. I had to use the best of our clan's shadow techniques. But lately, you've suddenly become lax. You weren't much of a challenge anymore."

Takae took off his damaged straw hat altogether, revealing a wrinkled, world-weary face and eyes as white as snow. "On one hand, maybe you're suffering from some sort of incurable disease. On the other hand, your constantly battered body may have reached its limits. It doesn't really matter to me. This sorry state of affairs kind of reminds me of the status of ninjutsu nowadays, though. I'm the only remaining ninja of my clan. All my comrades are either dead or have taken up other occupations; new lives. I couldn't do that... not even in the face of this Meiji Regime. Ninjutsu, like yourself, is slowly dying out." Kenshin slightly winced at that last statement.

Takae drew his two kunai at the reformed hitokiri. "But those first few seconds of fighting and the demeanor you have right now... even though these are just glimpses and shadows of the great Battousai, I still want to fight him! The flicker of your true self was enough to whet my appetite. Come, transform into your true self and give me the magnificent fight I deserve. In return, I will show you the full power of the shadow arts of the Last of the Takae Clan!"

Kenshin waxed contemplative as his purplish eyes blinked in rumination. He equably replied, "Go ahead with your plan. I have no arguments against it. However, don't ever involve these little ones I'm protecting, or you will live to regret it."

"You speak with such flourish even though you currently have no weapon. You're so confident of your skills that you believe you can win without one. But I don't want this to become a contest of dodging and weapon snatching, and I have no desire to strike down an unarmed man. Here! Hold this!"

Kenshin neatly caught what appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a katana. Before he could protest further, Takae had by then vanished.

"Fight me with a sword whose edge has been put in the correct side lest I send these little ones you protect to heaven!" an ethereal voice threatened as glinting daggers seemed to fly from all directions of the room simultaneously, each and every one of them converging towards the ex-rurouni.

Kenshin had just gone into his proverbial attacking position when two familiar friends... his former sword and his current prodigy... jumped into the blades' way.

"Yahiko," Kenshin half-whispered.

* * *

Gasuke slowly got up from his awkward posture, spewing out bits of tree bark, moss, and insects that had somehow ended up in his mouth while he was out cold. He winced slightly at the current condition of his hand. Then again, he reckoned that he couldn't feel any pain from it anyway, so he heedlessly wiped the blistered and bloodied appendage on his vest as though the blood weren't his own. Afterwards, he resentfully tried to recall what had happened earlier. He fingered the back of his neck in reminiscence.

'A reverse-edged sword! I was hit by a fucking reverse-edged sword! Did Battousai...? No, he gave it away. He gave it away TO THAT WASTE OF SPERM, YAHIKO!' he mentally screamed, his veins popping on his forehead amidst bloodshot eyes.

Looking around his general vicinity... an entire lot filled with his unconscious and semiconscious thugs... he discreetly reloaded his last remaining pistol as he sneaked off inside the dojo a good distance away from the screaming banshee that beat up the remainder of the conscious gangsters.

* * *

Yahiko tried his very best to counter the deadly flurry of hacks and slashes as sparks flew from the repeated clang of metal resounding across the enclosed space.

Yahiko was barely able to block all of the strikes from one of the blades, much less two. As both combatants parted a good distance away from each other's forceful assaults, the boy flinched in pain. He dolefully noted that his fingers and forearms were full of nicks and gashes. The room hadn't fared any better; the walls and the floor were marred by a crosshatch of lacerations as well.

'That stance, that stupid invisibility trick, and even that wrinkled old face of his! I know him!' Yahiko comprehended as he looked at his currently perceptible opponent. "You're the ninja pretending to be a drunken yakuza who attacked me yesterday!"

"Ah, and you were the boy with the impressive sword arm and downward strike. How's your stomach?" the ninja queried as he gestured towards the crude cloth bandages on Yahiko's abdomen in amusement. He promptly scowled. "Get out of my way, boy. This battle is between me and Battousai. This is a real fight, and not some insipid kendo duel."

"Well, I can't allow that," Yahiko straightforwardly stated as he fell into his usual kendo pose. "Kenshin made a promise to an important someone to never kill again. So, in turn, because I inherited from him this sakabatou I'm holding right now, I swore he'll never have to hold another sword again. I'm here to keep that promise."

He gave the ex-hitokiri a sidelong glance. "Right, Kenshin?"

Kenshin smiled as he flung the katana away. "Right."

Takae sneered. "Well then. If you stand against me, then I won't hold back." He soon winked out of existence.

'Damn. Last time, he only used his changeable speed and his cloak to disappear into the shadows. Now that he's in full gear, he's all the more difficult to detect! I can sense his presence, but somehow he is able to spread it everywhere, so it seems like he's charging from different directions at once... but not really! What am I going to do?' Yahiko brooded, perturbed. He glanced at Kenshin as the erstwhile swordsman looked at the empty space of the silent dojo.

Heedlessly, an assault suddenly materialized over Yahiko's blind side. The young kendo master had a hard time countering the strikes because the ninja used a special maneuver that made it look like his kunai were flying everywhere and anywhere concurrently. The boy couldn't tell if the numerous luminous lights were afterimages or genuine strikes. And, as suddenly as the attack came, it disappeared.

'This is getting me nowhere fast. If I don't figure out the ninja's method of attack, I'll lose! But I can't even use the Revisal Techniques since he just isn't set up properly like before.' Yahiko licked his bleeding knuckles. 'There has to be a way. What would Kenshin do in a situation like this?' he considered as he glanced towards the redhead's direction, the former rurouni still not taking his eyes off the bare space of the dojo.

'I wonder if he's trying to say something about the fight. Then again, maybe he's just as confused as I am! This ninja isn't easy to beat,' Yahiko thought as seconds ticked by in cadence with his heartbeat. 'His shadow arts are good. In fighting him, it's like I'm sparring with my own shadow!'

Yahiko's face lit up in understanding. 'Oh yeah. The answer was so obvious! Why didn't I think of it before?'

One second later, luminescent lines crisscrossed in the corner of Yahiko's eyes. He raised his sakabatou high above his head. He didn't move an inch as the wind from the furious strikes ruffled his hair.

Another second passed after the last strike glinted in his eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he held his breath. Spirit, mind, and body became one in that split second as he compulsorily brought his weapon down in full force.

Takae dropped down on all fours, screaming after the blunted weapon struck his shoulder hard and nearly broke its bones. A low thump was heard nearby as a kunai got stuck onto the wooden floor.

Yahiko wiped the sweat off his brow before speaking. "You tricky old bastard! The whole 'flurry of kunai' thing was just a sneaky trap!"

Kenshin smiled wanly. 'You've truly matured, Yahiko. You were able to figure out Takae's tactic on your own. His technique was really just a trap he used to trick his opponents into defending at the wrong time, thus making them open and vulnerable. It's like trying to hit one's own shadow; you can't hurt it, but the same could be said vice-versa.'

'So the Praying Mantis Trap has been defeated,' Takae ruminated as he looked at Yahiko in a new light. "You were able to understand the inner workings of the Toro Soujin. Perhaps all those generous accolades to your name were actually well-deserved. But this story hasn't ended yet." He vanished again.

"Jeez, gramps! You never give up, do you?" Yahiko shouted at empty air. "First time, you caught me in the gut; second time, you nicked and cut me apart; do you really think," he suddenly swung the hilt of the reverse-edged sword at a very surprised Takae, its end going deep into the ninja's right eye, "that there'll be a third time?"

The old man fell as he clutched his newly formed black eye.

"How were you able to figure out my Minamo Gakure invisibility technique?" Takae asked, more in wonder than in bitterness.

"Figure it out? I never did. You were always able to fool me with that. It was just plainly obvious that, in your agitated state, you'd attack me immediately after being defeated. Let's just say you trounced yourself more soundly than I ever could," Yahiko elucidated harshly as the elderly ninja fell silent.

"Humph. To think, you even had the gall to fight Kenshin, a legendary hitokiri who's in an entirely different level than me. Before you even consider challenging him, you better get through the Second Greatest Swordsman in All of Japan first!" Yahiko ranted, pointing at himself proudly with his thumb.

"Oro?" Kenshin sweatdropped. 'Oh well. No matter how mature he may appear at times, boys will be boys, I guess,' he reflected to himself laughingly.

Just then, they heard a scream from the Kamiya Dojo's courtyard. Both Meiji Patriot and Tokyo Samurai Descendant hurried outside, a feeling of mutual apprehension eating at their hearts.

* * *

Kenji repeatedly kicked, punched, and bit the stranger aiming the weird toy at his mama and calling her names. He even ripped out the man's brush-like hair. He instinctively knew that his mother was in trouble and he had to protect her from the mean, ugly stupid-head.

"OW! You little fucker! I'll get you and your whorish mother...!"

"Don't talk to my son like that. And never call my wife a whore," an icy voice that seemed to come from the darkest pits of hell seethed, sending chills down Gasuke's spine.

"Battousai! How nice of you to drop in!" Gasuke grinned as he grasped a hidden blade from one of his pockets. He held the child beside him, knife on the tot's neck, while still holding his loaded pistol with his other hand. "Don't you dare move."

"KENJI!" Kaoru was in hysterics as Kenshin held her back.

"Gasuke, you're still a fucking asshole! Let go of the kid!" Yahiko demanded, threateningly pointing the sakabatou at the gangster boss's direction, his scratched knuckles turning white with rage.

"You still owe me one for that foolish backhanded bludgeoning thing you did to me a while back, but I'll have to take a rain check on that, seeing that my worthless army of yakuza is... out of sorts right now," Gasuke shared rather glibly. "I'll just have to settle for this. Battousai! Get out in the open, your hands on the back of your head. Afterwards, I want to see your back turned! And no funny stuff! Move it!"

"You don't actually believe we'll..." Yahiko's eyes quickly expanded like saucers as Kenshin complied to Gasuke's demands. "Kenshin, have you gone nuts? He'll kill Kenji no matter what! Don't do it! There's got to be another way!"

"If I could somehow buy Kenji a few more seconds, then perhaps we'll get a chance to save him. I won't hesitate to offer my life for him."

"Kenshin, no!" Kaoru cried, torn between Kenji and Kenshin's lives, not knowing what to think, what to do, or what to say. She suddenly felt faint as Kenshin's image started to disappear in a salty, watery blur.

Yahiko cursed. 'Dammitdammitdammit!' A familiar feeling of helplessness flowed into his inner being. 'After all this time and everything I've done, I'm still not strong enough to help when it counts! Again, Gasuke's making my life into a living hell, and I can't do shit about it.'

"That's it, Battousai. That's it. Now don't move an inch, or else my other hand might 'accidentally' slice your son's throat in surprise. This is a very delicate procedure." Gasuke cackled, a glint of lunacy in his eyes as his face contorted into utter madness. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long. DIE, BATTOUSAI!"

The shot was fired.

A kunai was abruptly thrust into Gasuke's shoulder, making him drop his two weapons along with a very shell-shocked Kenji.

Takae fell into a bloody heap, his upper vest painted red with his own blood.

Gasuke howled an animal-like cry of frustration. "You idiot! You ruined everything!" He looked maniacally at the petrified Kenji. "Oh well. It's time to cut my losses." He casually extracted the dagger from his shoulder and lunged.

"Gasuke, you bastard!" Yahiko yelled as he caught his former employer's assassin by the hand and twisted it painfully. The hoodlum yowled in agony. "If you dare touch one hair on Kenji, I'll make you suck that pistol until it shoots off lead in your mouth."

"You talk tough for the son of a destitute samurai and a sickly prostitute!" Gasuke screeched. Relying solely on the strength of his despair, he forcibly wrenched his hand back as he struck Yahiko in the gut with his other fist. The teenager recoiled from the blow as an earlier wound reopened, the sakabatou clattering on the stony ground a good distance away.

"You never had any right to be anything other than our property. We own your life! And now I'm taking it back!" Gasuke raved, his sanity finally leaving him as he held Takae's kunai over Yahiko with both hands.

Yahiko ignored the searing ache in his gut as he refocused his vision. He willed himself to concentrate on the grotesque visage of the monster before him. He crossed his wrists as the dagger nearly plunged into his eye. "Defense Succession Technique Hadome!"

He turned his wrists, pulling the weapon out of Gasuke's grip and throwing him to the floor in one swift movement. "Attack Succession Technique Hawatari," he gravely declared to Gasuke's fallen form. From there, he picked up his sakabatou, his grip tightening as childhood memories of Gasuke's constant abuse resurfaced in his mind, threatening to skew his own judgment. He morbidly looked at Takae's still unmoving body.

Yahiko shrieked almost as maniacally as Gasuke did, raising his sword over the yakuza's head. Gasuke looked up, and as realization struck him, beads of sweat started to flow freely upon his fear-contorted features.

Dirt and rock pelted Gasuke's face excruciatingly as the sakabatou missed his head by mere inches. Yahiko drew ragged breaths as he idly wondered what it would've felt like to use one of the Revisal Techniques on someone's skull. A hand then unexpectedly gripped his shoulder firmly.

"It's over, Yahiko. Don't mar the beauty of that strike with the blood of an opponent," Kenshin asserted as he ruffled Yahiko's hair.

"Hey, Kenshin. I'm not a little boy anymore," Yahiko complained, heaving a sigh of relief nonetheless.

"Oh baby! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Mama is so sorry!" Kaoru sobbed as she rushed towards Kenji's side. Kenji, upon feeling Kaoru's warm embrace, bawled ceaselessly.

An urgent thought entered Yahiko's head. "Kenshin! The old ninja... will he make it?"

Kenshin shook his head. "He already lost a lot of blood, and it's a fatal wound. If Megumi-dono were here, he might've had a chance, but now..."

Yahiko was instantly beside the elderly ninja. "Hey, old man! Old man! Don't go dying on me now! I just fought you, and it was a goddamn good fight too! You owe me a rematch, gramps!" he prodded, ignoring the familiar pang of helplessness. "You were so stubborn during the fight! Where's that stubbornness now, eh? Gramps!"

Takae looked at Yahiko with glassy eyes. "Hey. I have a name, you know."

"Huh?"

"It's Takae Masahiro of the Takae Ninja Clan," Takae introduced himself, his once dark and smooth voice now tarnished by an increasing hoarseness in his throat.

"Why are you telling me this, gramps?" Yahiko queried, his demeanor becoming more subdued and calm. "You didn't even bother telling me your name when we fought."

The old man smirked. "I'm a ninja. I'm not supposed to give out my name on a whim." He narrowed his eyes. "However, I believe that you've earned the right to know."

Yahiko didn't know what to say; the only thing he could do now was stare at the growing pool of blood. "Gramps!"

Takae coughed violently. "I suppose 'gramps' will have to do, since we can't exactly be on a first name basis." He guffawed humorlessly. "I'd rather have a warrior's death, but dying in a manner more reminiscent of the gentler Battousai will suffice. I have no regrets. The Takae Clan's Minjutsu dies with me. I'm glad... its legacy... ended... on such a..."

Yahiko rubbed his tears away before closing the old man's unseeing eyes.

"Yahiko-kun?"

Yahiko looked up, his eyes reddened and his vision slightly blurred; however, the voice, the scent, and the silhouette within his hazy sight were all unmistakably clear in his mind.

"Tsubame," Yahiko mouthed before he was suddenly overwhelmed by a crying girl's hug. Words were not needed anymore.

* * *

"I don't understand why you still want to go through with this. You said you were going to skip out of town three days ago, but you came back anyway. If you're still this undecided, then it's better to spend a little more time here than to jump haphazardly into some unsure thing, right?" Kaoru argued as she poured herself another cup of tea.

Yahiko bristled in irritation. "You didn't read the letter right. I said I was going to go soon, but I never said anything about going that very day!"

It had been three days since the yakuza incident. Chief Uramura, being such a close family friend and all, had personally taken care of the situation. Gasuke was now safely behind prison bars where he belonged, and the mysterious man known as Masahiro Takae was provided the proper funeral he deserved. His cremated remains were given to his family afterwards.

"It's not my fault that your writing is atrocious," Kaoru scoffed as she calmly sipped her tea.

"It's your fault because you were the one who taught me in the first place, you old hag!" Yahiko countered heatedly.

"Don't call mama an old hag, o else I beat you up like bad man!" Kenji admonished Yahiko as threateningly as he could, stretching his big brother's mouth to different proportions.

"Oh, I'm so touched, Kenji! Did you see that, Kenshin? Kenji's defending his dear, sweet mother's honor!" Kaoru snuggled against her son as the little tot giggled. Yahiko groaned inwardly.

"So what are your plans now? Do you need any monetary support?" Kenshin inquired.

Yahiko shrugged. "I figured if you were able to survive on your own with little more than a sword and a tattered hakama for ten years, I should be able to fare better. Besides, I still got some cash from working at the Akabeko, so money's no object."

Kenji looked at Yahiko very seriously as he offered his pinky finger. "You pwomise you come back?"

Yahiko smiled wanly as he curled his own pinky over the tot's. "Yep. And remember: big brother doesn't break promises!"

"Yay!" Kenji cheered.

Kaoru leaned towards Yahiko and did the unexpected; she kissed him on the forehead. "Now don't be a stranger, okay? Write back as soon as you arrive at... wherever it is you're supposed to go."

A stray memory of his mother kissing him on the forehead the very same way Kaoru did entered Yahiko's psyche. He shook his head clear before responding, "Uh, yeah. I checked with the post office. As soon as I find the time and the money to buy the paper and ink, I'll write."

Kaoru smiled. "That's all I needed to know. Have a safe trip, Yahiko."

Yahiko turned towards Kenshin. Grinning, he offered his hand to the former vagabond the same way Sanosuke did all those years ago. They clasped hands briefly yet firmly.

"I'm off," Yahiko stated.

"Right," Kenshin confirmed.

From there, the wannabe vagabond made his way outside the Kamiya Dojo's gates: in search of his manhood, his independence, and his true coming of age.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next:** A village, a maiden, and a neophyte vagabond.

_For your added information, this fic will be using the East Asian Age Reckoning System, which counts a person's age from the day of conception. Incidentally, the Rurouni Kenshin manga itself uses this outdated practice for historical accuracy purposes because its story is supposed to be set during Nineteenth Century Japan. As such, when the manga says Sanosuke is nineteen years old, he's actually just eighteen in western terms. In any case, this fic's narrative won't be following the western standard to keep everything consistent._

**Ja ne!_  
_**Abdiel


	3. Chapter 3

Yahiko was all prepared to leave Tokyo when his journey of manhood, independence, and coming of age suddenly came to a screeching halt just outside the Kamiya Dojo's gates.

"Did I startle you?" Tsubame inquired apologetically, as opposed to her usual outright apologies that were, to Yahiko's distaste, a bit _too_ profuse.

"No. I'm just surprised that you came here," Yahiko confessed, rubbing the back of his head. "What _are_ you doing here? I promised you that, no matter what, I'm still going to meet you at the Akabeko first thing before I leave, didn't I?"

"I... I just w-wanted to give you this before you go," Tsubame shyly professed.

"A red string?" Yahiko blinked confusedly as he took the peculiar gift. "Thanks. I think."

Tsubame blushed hard as she took the red string back and kneeled down.

"Huh?" Yahiko blurted. "Tsubame, what are you...?"

The youth went silent as the teenaged girl started tying the string tightly on his sandals. 'This is just like the first time we met.'

Tsubame smiled as she got up. "It's so you'll never forget, Yahiko-kun. I hope you'll find what you're looking for, so do have a safe trip!" she urged optimistically.

Yahiko grinned in kind, turning quickly lest he risk letting Tsubame see his reddened face. He directed a sidelong glance towards her. "Tsubame."

"Y-Yes?" Tsubame choked as her heart got caught in her throat. It was a familiar anxiety, but an ultimately welcome nervousness.

"The address I got from the post office was the Akabeko's instead of the Kamiya Dojo's. I'm entrusting you the task of getting the letters delivered to Kenshin, Kaoru, and Kenji. Good-bye."

"But why would you do that if it would be easier to mail..." Her words were cut off as Yahiko looked at her with clear brown eyes that spoke volumes.

Tsubame nodded timidly to Yahiko, putting up a brave and hopeful face. "Thank you." There was no need for more words as the girl gazed at the retreating figure of her beloved. The scene was simplicity itself.

Spring had finally arrived, continuing the never-ending cycle.

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

The first plot point is fast approaching.

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Village Under Siege**

* * *

"Kaoru-san! Kenji-chan! Kenshin-san! They're here! They're here!" one very excited Tsubame Sanjo exclaimed, clutching a white envelope. "Yahiko-kun's letters are here!"

"Hold on a minute, Tsubame-chan. It's two-o'clock in the afternoon. Your shift at the Akabeko ends at four," Kaoru lightly admonished. "Tae-san isn't a very strict person, but still, you..."

"I'm sorry," Tsubame regretfully pouted, making Kaoru trail off. "I told Tae-san about the letter, so she agreed to give me the rest of the day off just so I could deliver it to everyone here. Besides, Yahiko-kun would definitely want all of us to read his letters together."

"Hooray! We got a letter fwom big bwotha!" Kenji blissfully put his head on his mother's lap, an impish smile on his face. "Wead it, mama."

Kaoru resolutely sighed, remarking, "Well, now; I guess that settles that. Hopefully, Yahiko's writing has improved quite a bit since the last time he wrote unreadable drivel."

"That's too harsh, Kaoru-san." Tsubame tilted her head to the side, remembering something. "Um, where is Kenshin-san?"

Kenji quickly sat up straight, frowning as he crossed his arms, making clucking noises with his tongue the same way his mama always did. "Daddy always wuins things fo us."

Kaoru playfully tickled Kenji's side as she responded to Tsubame's question. "He's out at the back of the dojo doing laundry. He claims the exercise helps keep his dizzy spells at bay."

"Oh, he still has those?" Tsubame asked worriedly. After all, from what Kaoru narrated to her three months ago, those dizzy spells almost cost Kenshin his life. "What did the doctor say about them?"

"The doctor blames it all on nausea and stress, but he did say that it'll probably be best if I got a second opinion," Kaoru contemplatively related, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "But lately, Kenshin has been able to handle the recent bouts with his daily regimen, so I think it'll be all right."

Tsubame nodded sympathetically before she gave Kaoru a look of sudden panic. "Kaoru-san, where's Kenji?"

"ACK!" Kaoru yelped in surprise. "He was here a moment ago!"

"It's okay. He's with me," Kenshin reassured, forthwith appearing in front of the two bemused females. His hands and hakama were still wet from all his laundering. "This little one wanted to get the 'letter reading' started as soon as possible," he revealed, pointing at his son as the tyke steadfastly clamped onto his left leg.

"This's impowtant!" Kenji reminded indignantly.

Tsubame and Kaoru laughed in unison. "Yes, yes. We should already stop delaying. Let's read my idiot apprentice's letter," Kaoru quipped in between giggles.

"Hey, you're beginning to sound like Master Hiko," Kenshin idly noted, which earned him a pinch on his cross-scarred cheek by one very irritated Kenji. "No mo delays! We wead now!"

Kaoru chortled some more as she affectionately ruffled Kenji's ginger hair. "Fine, fine! You win, Kenji." She proceeded to unfold and peruse Yahiko's letter. "'Hello all. It has been three months since I left Tokyo. Y'know what? It was a mostly...'"

* * *

'Boring trip. Nothing's happening. Boredom killing me faster than a maddened, nerve-hypertrophied Enishi ever could,' Yahiko mused to himself as the heat and humidity of the midday sun exhausted him. After spending what little money he had traveling to the province... somewhere in Nagano, he vaguely remembered... he had to walk the rest of the way. With the humid weather, repetitive surroundings, and a lack of things to amuse himself with, walking was mostly a bad idea.

Yahiko looked through the slit of his recently acquired woven straw hat. A pensive look crossed his features. 'Takae-san; your family did say that I could keep this kabuto of yours as a memento of sorts. I hope you don't mind my using it in this heat.'

He looked around. As expected, most of the people with even half a brain had already gone indoors, leaving him all alone to mind the annoying heat and the dust that was now irritatingly caking his sweaty skin like mud frosting. 'Eh. It's a humid and windy day. No, not just that. It's a humid, windy, and boring day. Can things get any worse?'

As if on cue, an irate-looking Kaoru straightaway stormed out of what appeared to be a local law enforcement office... or a postal office... perhaps a doctor's office? It was hard to tell with all the houses in the backwater village looking exactly the same.

Right then and there, Yahiko abruptly forgot how to breathe.

Yahiko blinked once. He then blinked twice. By the third blink, the eerie phantom had gone past him, fuming. He did a double-take, then a triple-take. He rubbed his eyes. He considered pinching himself, but that would have been silly of him.

'What the heck is Kaoru doing here?' he ultimately questioned in his head, wondering if she were some sort of hallucination. But he wasn't "out of it" like the time he searched for a "misplaced" Kenji the entire night. Besides, he reasoned, if worse came to worst, then the phantom Kaoru would probably try to hit him with a stray slipper. That was nothing new.

The young kendo master was about to say something when the ethereal image of Kaoru swiftly walked towards his general direction, a familiar glare aimed at his person. He decided that the best course of action was to shut up, like how one would play dead when a dangerous bear appeared before him.

"Do you know what the police just said to _me_, young man with the weird hat? They told me to get lost! They had some nerve! Wait till my grandfather in Tokyo hears about this! I'll have them know that Raikouji Muneiwa has many connections in the capital!" The phantasm subsequently throttled the dumbstruck Yahiko. "Just because Suwa is in the middle of nowhere doesn't excuse those lazy cops for being lax! AARRRRRGGH!"

"Urk! Hey, get a hold of yourself, lady!" Yahiko nearly choked, not knowing what else to do. 'If this isn't Kaoru, then I don't know who this... Wait, she mentioned something about a Raikouji fellow.' The young boy slammed his fist on his open palm. "Hey, lady; did you say Raikouji Muneiwa? Old man Raikouji, the foreign goods trader?"

The girl became visibly calm as she heard the name. "Yup, that's what I said." She brightened. "Wow! You're from Tokyo? Then you know my grandfather?"

Yahiko shrugged as he began putting two and two together. "We used to buy imported rice from him." He gave the girl a once over. 'Man, she's the spitting image of Kaoru. It's almost scary.' To the woman, he commented, "I didn't know he had a daughter."

The girl raised an eyebrow at that. "It's _granddaughter_, you brat. Tokyo was getting a bit too crowded for my tastes, so I moved here. I visit grandpa from time to time, though." The twenty-something female paused. "Excuse me. I have more important things to attend to."

Yahiko didn't really feel like prying, so he let the woman go.

* * *

"Look-alike? Maybe I've misread something." Kaoru reread the tentatively stroked characters again.

Tsubame shyly peeked over Kaoru's shoulder. "It says right there, 'She looks like the,' um, 'old hag.'"

Kaoru scoffed. "Maybe what he meant to say was, 'She looked like an old hag.'" She preened herself. "There's no way that a kenjutsu beauty like myself would ever have a double. I'm one of a kind!"

Kenshin perspired in chagrin. 'So Raikouji's daughter is somewhere in that province.' He looked at Kaoru, his features bearing a remarkable resemblance to that of a lost puppy.

"Honey, what's with that look?" Kaoru inquired with half-lidded eyes and a raised eyebrow.

'She does look like her! Perhaps they were twins separated at birth?' Kenshin idly wondered.

Kaoru heaved an exasperated sigh as she tossed her hair to the side. "Kenji, don't do that to your father."

Kenji sniggered merrily. "It kind of looks good on him!" From the other side of the room, Tsubame restrained a chuckle.

"Oro?" Kenshin mumbled, unaware of the cute blue ribbon that was now tied to his hair in a neat bow.

* * *

Halfway inside the village, Yahiko felt a tap on his shoulder.

The Kaoru look-alike introduced herself. "By the way, my name's Chizuru! Nice to meet you!"

Yahiko visibly bigsweated.

'I thought she had something urgent to do. What a weird woman,' Yahiko reflected with a droll smirk. "The name's Yahiko. Myojin Yahiko," he revealed mainly because he assumed he was supposed to.

"My, my. You look like a strapping young lad," Chizuru observed, casually fingering Yahiko's chin. "Maybe you could help me clear his name." She nodded to herself sagely, adding, "Stupid bunch of cowardly, paranoid hicks; blaming the poor man for all their troubles."

"Clear whose name, lady?" Yahiko inquired none-too-gently as he slowly got annoyed by the woman's haughty demeanor. "Look, it's not as if I'm traveling at my own leisure and delight here like some happy-go-lucky tourist, you know. I have places to go, training halls to train in, techniques to improve..."

Chizuru clasped her hands excitedly. "Really? Dojo? Techniques? Then you must be some sort of traveling martial artist! That's perfect! What's that long, wrapped package you're carrying? Is it some sort of specialized bokuto?"

Yahiko deftly swung the cloth-wrapped sakabatou away from the strange woman's reach. "Like I said, I have no time for this. I have to go."

Chizuru rambled on as if she had not heard anything Yahiko just disclosed. "Oh, this is perfect! With a martial artist backing me up, then maybe these village idiots will listen. They'll learn that the Battousai isn't a bad person."

Yahiko did his double-to-triple-take for a second time. "You didn't just say 'Battousai' now, did you?"

Chizuru nodded indifferently. "Yes, I did. I don't suppose you have some sort of hearing impediment, do you?"

Yahiko grunted and seethed. "What are they saying about Battousai?"

"Oh, horrible things! Unfounded rumors and lies! Like how he'd finally turned up now after years of anonymity, his plans to oust the Meiji Government because his theories of isolationism conflicted with their beliefs, him being evil... that sort of stuff."

Chizuru shook her head in dismay as Yahiko listened in rapt attention. "Probably the most dumbfounding and unbelievable information I've heard is that Battousai is already somewhere around this district right now, planning an _announced_ assassination attempt on one of the premiere members of the Daijokan."

Yahiko nodded in understanding. "Where'd you get all of this information?"

Chizuru shrugged. "By word of mouth. The news spread like wildfire within this small village and the other towns surrounding it. The ignorant masses, typically, lapped it all up, adding their own token Battousai horror stories." She crossed her arms in disapproval. "Battousai isn't really like that. The vagabond could never bring himself to do such blatant acts of terrorism."

Chizuru bit her lip as she continued. "He may look like a swordsman, but he didn't act like one at all. He was... is... a peaceful, nonviolent man who only fights when provoked and has a habit of getting his nose into situations where people are in need."

She looked a bit pensive as a wave of nostalgia hit her. "And, aside from the cosmetic stuff like the cross-shaped scar on his left cheek and the longish red hair, he also had the weirdest speech pattern. The one thing that I did remember about him was his continuous use of the word..."

* * *

"Oro!"

Kenshin, Master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, a school that trained the user to have superhuman "divine speed" and an incredible reaction time that came along with it, was hastily and easily strangled by a very irate Kaoru Kamiya.

"You weren't fooling around with a look-alike of me on the side, were you, Kenshin?" Kaoru bristled as she pointed accusatorily at Yahiko's letter as if it were Kenshin's love child. "How did that strange woman know you so well? She may be Raikouji-san's daughter, but if ever you cheated on me with her...!"

"B-But sweetheart, you haven't even met her! Oh, I feel faint! It must be another dizzy spell!" Kenshin sputtered in spiral-eyed bewilderment as Kaoru shook him like a very shakable thing.

As Tsubame looked at the marital dispute in amused bemusement, she felt an insistent tug upon her uniform. It was Kenji, crawling on all fours, giving her an urgent look.

"Please wead the letter. Daddy did something stupid again, so mama's gonna be busy choking him. I don't wanna distuwb her any."

"Okay, Kenji-chan. Now let's see. Ah," Tsubame started, "'With such a persuasive portrayal of Kenshin, I was convinced that the tanuki doppelganger was telling the truth...'"

* * *

Yahiko considered Chizuru's words. "I see. So you know who Kenshin is?"

"Who?" Chizuru asked, puzzled.

Yahiko sighed. "I mean, you've already met Battousai the Vagabond, right?"

Chizuru nodded in assent. Yes. Yes I did. So you've also heard about Battousai's misadventures as a gentle wanderer of sorts, haven't you? I can attest to you firsthand that Battousai isn't really all that bad as people claim him to be, and those stories about him being a gentle rurouni are all partly true. Except for that one story about him fighting a living corpse with a flaming sword, which is just plain ridiculous."

Yahiko sweatdropped at Chizuru's statement. "Uh... right."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go and convince those idiots that Battousai isn't really their enemy!" Chizuru prodded as she heedlessly pushed Yahiko towards the direction of the town square.

"Hey! I didn't say anything about helping you out!" Yahiko protested. "Besides, if the ignorant masses prefer to remain ignorant, who are we to stop them? Let them believe what they want to believe!"

Chizuru hesitated for a minute, a deep scowl marring her features as she gave Yahiko "The Look". She wasn't exactly aware of what "The Look" was and how it functioned when it came to dealing with Yahiko, but the boy himself was all too familiar with it.

It was a look of half-dissatisfaction and half-disappointment... with just a touch of disparagement... that Kaoru gave Yahiko whenever he became "supremely arrogant" or "incredibly insensitive". Simply put, it was a look that really, really annoyed and bothered Yahiko to no end, and a reprimand or speech usually followed it shortly.

Well, the fact that the Kaoru clone did a complete facsimile of "The Look" grated Yahiko's nerves in ways a repeated "Yahiko-chan" appellation from Tsubame would.

"What do you want from me, you old hag?" Yahiko couldn't help but challenge.

Chizuru visibly tried to compose herself first before speaking. "Young man, you may have not noticed, but this entire village is under siege. A group of people claiming to be in cahoots with the Battousai is terrorizing this neighborhood, and all the villagers are either too scared or too apathetic to do anything. Furthermore, the police seem more concerned about the safety of one Ishin Shishi politician to even care about what'll happen to this village. Well, _I_ do care, so even if you won't help me, I won't let this village fall into their hands without a fight."

Yahiko regarded the mature woman in a new light. "Okay, old hag; what do you want me to do?" A slipper hit him on the face.

"First of all, rude boy, I have a name! Call me by that name!" Chizuru fumed. "Secondly, thanks. I'm not sure if you can help all that much, Yahiko, but your assistance is very much appreciated! I won't let a couple of rumors and badly dressed hooligans get the better of these poor, hardworking people. Why, after all these years of..."

Yahiko rubbed his temples, his head on the verge of an oncoming migraine. In fairness, it helped him conveniently ignore Chizuru's tirade. 'Is this really a good idea?'

* * *

"Ah, it's good to see that this soba shop is still up-and-running," a well-dressed young man of twenty-four years of age marveled, nodding to the owner of the quaint little establishment as he inhaled the hot vapors of the freshly cooked cuisine.

"It's partly because of you. Even with all these weird men running amok and causing so many problems in this small village of ours, it's a refreshing change of pace to see a cheerful young boy like you frequent my restaurant. You're my heaven-sent angel."

"You're too kind," the young adult humbly stated as he carefully parted his chopsticks and clasped his hands together in apparent thanksgiving before he consumed his hot meal. He paid no heed to the fact that he was the only customer inside the establishment, despite it already being noontime and all. He liked eating lunch in quiet places.

"So how is your employer doing? It's 'Akahori-san', isn't it? From what I heard, he'll be staying inside the manor just west of Suwa to address the issues concerning the rampant money-laundering and incorrigible corruption within the Daijokan, even though there were already those weird..."

"Death threats?" the young lad finished for her, his tranquil smile never leaving his face. "Akahori-san gets a lot of those. He's a very influential and powerful man within the government ministries, so I guess it's only natural; it's business as usual, even."

"I see. Oh, please do excuse me! I'm not a very good conversationalist when it comes to politics," the middle-aged woman confessed. A mischievous look crossed her features. "Though when it comes to other matters... I've heard that you've become quite close to Akahori-san's daughter, Miss..."

The young man slurped his soba noisily, really savoring its taste. "What a great tasting soba! You spoil me at times, Sakaguchi-san," the supposedly well-mannered young man happily interjected, admiring the soba bowl as if it were made of gold.

Nonoko Sakaguchi held back a titter. 'Okay, okay. I'll stop teasing you this time around. It's the least I can do for your recent continued patronage.' To the charming young man, she commented, "It's good to see you even happier than usual."

A flicker of wonderment crossed the twenty-four-year-old boy's cherubic eyes. "Happier, Sakaguchi-san?"

The older woman nodded, grinning. "You always seem to smile, but lately, somehow, there seems to be a reason behind your smiles. Trust me, a woman knows these sort of things. It's in our inborn intuition." She winked mischievously at him.

The young man smiled enigmatically at that statement. "Maybe." He afterwards blinked as he remembered something that was bothering him ever since he went into the eatery. "Where's Kyoko-san? She's usually the one serving me the soba."

"Oh, I had her go to the wet market to buy me some groceries," the elder Sakaguchi offhandedly answered.

Just then, a raucous tumult unexpectedly exploded just outside of the refectory as a lively pair made their way inside the nearly vacant establishment.

"Do this, do that; y'know what? You're very demanding, raccoon-woman!"

"It's Chizuru, you jerk! CHI-ZU-RU! I am not a mythical forest creature, I am not an old crone, I'm just me! Stop giving me all these stupid nicknames!"

"What? More customers? Oh, it's Chizuru-san! And she brought a friend. That's good," Nonoko appraised as she looked apprehensively at the boisterous couple. "Chizuru-san hasn't made many friends in our village ever since she moved here. She just rubbed everyone off wrong. Oh, leaving already?"

The young adult bowed courteously at the restaurant owner. "I have to get going. I have some very important assignments to do. Thank you for the meal," he expressed as he left some bills and loose change on his table.

The adolescent passed by the argumentative duo at the eatery's entrance, giving the young man with the spiky hair the briefest of glances before making his way out. Feeling the older boy's stare, the younger boy stared back, only to see the guy's back turned at him as he left.

'What a weird guy,' Yahiko idly observed before he went back to retorting Chizuru's most recent jibes.

The young man smiled... a blissful, idyllic smile... as he left the restaurant.

* * *

"That soba lady sure was nice to give us some extra servings since _some_ of us are too cheap to buy some more," Yahiko casually needled as he patted his full stomach. "Raikouji-san is a generous fellow. I can't believe you two are actually related."

"You ungrateful brat! After I fed you, you say such things? I only get just enough money from grandpa, so shut your mouth before saying such insensitive comments!" Chizuru snapped. "Besides, what's with this 'soba lady' thing? You have a very bad habit of nicknaming every other person you see!"

"Oh, come on. You're too uptight," Yahiko scoffed. He stopped as he eyed a group of men walking arrogantly across the street. "Tsk. Who do those men think they are? The Shinsengumi?"

Before Yahiko could protest, he was brusquely dragged away by a very alarmed Chizuru. Hidden in a narrow alleyway, she clamped her hand over his mouth as the party passed them by.

"What the hell was that all about?" Yahiko hissed in a discreet manner. "Who are those guys anyway? Yakuza?"

"No. Worse. They're terrorists."

Yahiko boggled in shock. "Terrorists?"

Chizuru nodded. "They claimed that they're here because of the Battousai; their group is allegedly affiliated with him." She glared holes at the passing troop. "But really, they're just two-bit thugs who clambered up the Battousai bandwagon. I hate those hypocrites."

Yahiko's brow furrowed in deliberation. "So what about the police? Can't they do anything about it?" he queried, reflexively backing away as Chizuru fumed.

"That was what I was trying to do a while ago. I wanted those men arrested, but the police kept saying that their hands were tied; what was left of them in the police station, anyway." She clenched her teeth in anger.

She continued. "The police said that the most they could do was issue a warrant against them for loitering and trespassing. But that's just a cover-up! Some of those guys are wearing real swords, and not just sword canes! But what's worse..."

Chizuru rubbed her eyes. "What's worse is that the people here are too scared to act; too scared to take matters into their own hands. I feel both pity and annoyance at the same time for their plight."

"Hey, get a grip on yourself, Chizuru," Yahiko anxiously urged. 'As long as there're people like you in this village, then there's still hope.'

Chizuru gave Yahiko an astonished look before she altogether smiled.

Yahiko went slack-jawed in bewildered confusion. "What?"

"It's the first time you called me by my name," Chizuru pointed out, grinning. "You can be sweet when you want to."

A girlish screech was heard, taking the duo out of their brief moment of sympathy.

"It sounded like it came from near the wet market!" Chizuru exclaimed. "I wonder who's the poor girl that... Hey! Yahiko? Where are you going? Yahiko!"

* * *

"Please, mister. Let me pass," a young girl of seventeen years of age carrying a wicker basket full of vegetables and foodstuff politely entreated to the gathering hoodlums around her, cornering her in a dead end.

"You're the daughter of that soba woman. Sakaguchi, right? Well, aren't you the cutie?" one of the ruffians drawled, leering. "You've become quite the woman now. Why don't you play with us, little missy?"

The young woman had just started to turn away when the goon slammed his palm hard against the wooden wall behind her. "Hey! Don't be rude! You should pay attention to your elders when they speak! It's the polite thing to do!" he barked.

The very same ruffian was violently yanked out of the way, landing face-first on the dirt road. The teenaged girl looked up timidly at her savior, only to recoil in disgust.

"The presence of Kyoko-chan is wasted upon the likes of you," a muscular man, apparently the leader of the group, growled to his comrade's fallen form. "Are you okay, my dear?"

Kyoko slapped the man's hand away, giving him a steadfast glare. "Please go away, Keisuke-san."

The man identified as Keisuke guffawed with reckless abandon. "You send me away with such venom in your voice and daggers in your eyes, yet you still say 'please'. You haven't changed a bit, my dear. You're still as lovable and endearing as ever."

Keisuke insolently cupped Kyoko's chin with his right hand, easily invading the girl's personal space. "Ah. Sakaguchi Kyoko, daughter of the common copper Sakaguchi Satoru. It's too bad that your cripple of a father was reassigned in another district. On the other hand, it's better that way. He doesn't have to get hurt again."

Through her cold glare, Kyoko retorted, "It's a good thing for you that he's gone too. Your broken nose doesn't have to get stitched again."

Keisuke slapped the young girl hard as he shouted at his hooting underlings to shut up. "You're playing hard to get again, Kyoko-chan. You know I hate that. You should just give it to me now."

"Gladly," was what Keisuke heard before he was dropped like a bad habit beside the thug he cowed earlier. The other people in the group drew their swords as they backed away from their unexpected aggressor.

"You're the fearsome terrorists I've heard so much about? Don't make me laugh. You're no better than common street gangs and yakuza, hiding in the safety of your designated group while bullying teenage girls. You're all pathetic," Yahiko lamented as he protectively helped the frazzled girl up.

Kyoko curtly smacked Yahiko's hand away in the same manner she did with Keisuke. "Mister, I don't know who you are, but please mind your own business."

Yahiko gazed numbly at Kyoko as the surrounding thugs taunted him with jeers of "That's right!" and "Go home, dipshit!" He continued to stare blankly in space as the older girl stood up and ran from the dumbfounding scene.

Doors were opened and gates were unlatched as random people heckled Yahiko from all sides.

"Who is that outsider?"

"He should mind his own business."

"What does he know?"

"He's only making trouble."

"If Battousai ever found out about this..."

"Go away, outsider! Go home! Go home!"

"GO HOME!"

Repeated cries of "GO HOME!" echoed across the narrow landscape of the small village, overwhelming Yahiko in shock and humiliation.

Chizuru appeared from the side, taking Yahiko's arm, screaming, "What are you standing here for, moron? Run away!"

Yahiko looked listlessly at the derisive villagers and the hooting group of thugs as he was dragged away from the mortifying scene.

* * *

"Now you fully realize my problem. How can I save a village that doesn't want to be saved? As you can see, they're all apathetic about the situation at hand, like the way you are right now. HEY, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?" Chizuru demanded.

Yahiko continued to stare into space. A miasma of bad memories appeared inside his distracted mind; reminiscences of things that he thought he had gotten over in the passage of time.

Rejection.

"What a weird boy. All he ever talks about is his dead father."

"Did you hear? That kid's mother is in the pleasure district!"

"How dirty! It's no wonder that he doesn't have any friends."

"Go home. We don't want to play with you."

"Go home. Go home. GO HOME!"

"I don't want to go home!" Yahiko half-screamed to himself as he grasped Chizuru's arms tightly for balance. He paused for a bit before letting her go, blushing. He muttered a haphazard, embarrassed apology.

Chizuru crossed her arms, unfazed. "Well then, if you don't want to go home, then I'll presume that you also don't want to give up on our little endeavor. Or am I mistaken and you were just spouting gibberish from that little daydream of yours?"

'What am I doing? Getting distracted with something so stupid...' Yahiko looked up at Chizuru, his voice completely serious. "I won't give up. I'll never give up."

Chizuru smiled. "That's good to hear. Attaboy. But what are we going to do now that you've ruined the villagers' first impression of you?"

Yahiko shrugged idly, his old confidence slowly returning. "I say let them be. I don't care what they think. Let's just storm the hideout of those supposed terrorists and then beat the crap out of them."

Chizuru slapped Yahiko soundly with a slipper. "Look, violence may work well with yakuza and street gangs, but it just won't cut it with this village!"

'You who just whapped me with a slipper could say such things?' Yahiko thought indignantly.

"So what if you can beat the crap out of them? What'll you get from doing that? If you truly did take the vagabond's stories to heart, then you'd know that he doesn't work that way!" Chizuru finished with a flourish.

Yahiko gawked at Chizuru as he considered her stance carefully. 'Wow. Her words are still as demeaning and presumptuous as ever, but she does have a reasonable claim. Kenshin doesn't go around bullying people just to prove a point. Is this the same crazy woman who throttled me a while ago?'

"Tsk. Stop admiring my beauty so much and listen up," Chizuru teased mischievously. "The only way we can do this correctly is to sway the villager's general opinion. We can't force them, but we can try to convince them. If we can only persuade just one of them... just one... then it'll be enough."

"What's with this now?" Yahiko regarded his companion with open confusion. "Just hours ago, you were ready to strangle each and every one of those villagers. You called them a stupid bunch of yellow-bellied, paranoid hicks. What's with the one-eighty?"

"Oh, that. Heh. Well, I hope you don't take it the wrong way, but I was impressed with how the villagers collectively jeered at you. It may have been a bit pathetic, but it's the first time I saw them do something together. If only we can use that..."

Yahiko let out a feral snarl. "My nigh-traumatic humiliation gave you faith in those cowardly rednecks? What sort of twisted reasoning is that?"

Chizuru pouted playfully. "You're always so negative and angst-ridden. You should relax a little. Come on, let's have a soba on me to cool down your stressed nerves."

* * *

"I'm sorry. We're closed. Please go away," the soba shop owner pleaded as she slid the door closed.

"Hey, I don't get it! Sakaguchi-san was so nice before. She even gave us extra servings for free. What's with the cold shoulder?" Chizuru visibly frowned as she walked away in a huff from the soba restaurant.

"Didn't you hear what the thugs mentioned before? The girl, she's the soba shop owner's daughter."

"I already know that. I'm their family... Oh." Chizuru slapped her forehead as she groaned. "So much for convincing even just one of them! Well now, it looks like it's just you and me against the world... er, village."

Yahiko exhaled a frustrated breath. 'So much for the sword that saves. What good is it now? I can't draw my sword because it won't do me any good. How can the sword save this village now?'

Two thoughts surfaced in Yahiko's mind; two seemingly unrelated notions that were narrated to him in two different voices.

"Remember all the battles of your life. The battles you've seen with your eyes. The battles you've heard with your ears. The battles you've embraced with your own skill and all the battles you carry within you," one voice in his head lectured. It was Kenshin's voice.

"We can't force them, but we can try to convince them. If we can only persuade just one of them... just one... then it'll be enough," another voice in his head reminded. It was Chizuru's voice.

"That's it," Yahiko declared as his eyes brightened in understanding. "Chizuru, you said that all it took for us to sway this village's opinion is to convince just one villager, right? Well then," he patted the older woman on the shoulder, "you're that one villager."

"Eh? Are you daft? That doesn't make any sense! I don't think these people even remotely consider me as part of their community!" Chizuru protested, bewildered. "How inane can you get?"

"This from a woman who was able to find faith in her so-called yellow-bellied neighbors after they communally harassed me for helping a girl in need? I must have gotten this sort of logic from you," Yahiko replied sardonically.

He persisted, stating, "C'mon, Chizuru. You're the wild card that's going to change their minds about Battousai. We've been going about this all wrong. The Battousai Group has been spreading around unfounded rumors and lies that have confused the villagers; they have become closed-minded and scared because they don't know who the true Battousai is." Chizuru seemed to consider Yahiko's urgings.

"Let's go, lady. Tell me how you met Battousai the Vagabond. Or rather," Yahiko waved his arms around the surrounding area of the open veranda, "you should tell _everyone_ more about the rurouni by _not_ ramming your opinions down their throats. Just give it to them straight."

A foreboding hush fell on the surrounding area of the seemingly empty village, but it wasn't by any means a deathly silence. Rather, it was reticence filled with the ambiance of anticipation so thick, one could cut a knife through it.

"Well," Chizuru started to recount, appearing somewhat embarrassed although there weren't any visible people out there. She modulated her voice slightly so it would become clearer. "It all began in Tokyo, six years ago..."

* * *

"Let me read that!" Kaoru sputtered out as she let go of Kenshin, the latter jiggling like a wind chime before fainting. Tsubame blinked; the letter she was holding suddenly wasn't there anymore.

'How long was mama going at it?' Kenji casually mused as he looked at his mother's excited state. 'I couldn't tell.'

"'She started with how Kenshin saved her from a group of thugs by...'" Kaoru stopped momentarily as she read the sentence carefully. "'Running away.' I knew it."

"Yes. That sounds exactly like Kenshin-san," Tsubame agreed.

"Daddy's a dummy," Kenji seconded.

Kenshin smiled self-effacingly. "Chizuru-dono was in trouble with rebels who were disgruntled with the government. In such a situation, I only did what I thought was right."

Kaoru gave Kenshin "The Look". "What's with the 'Chizuru-dono,' Kenshin?" She then became pensive. "It says here, 'Six years ago.' That's about the same year we met!" Unbidden, her eyes moistened with tears. "T-Then you met her first? I-I'm the doppelganger to replace _her_?"

Kenshin, despite all the philosophies he had learned about life and the way of the sword, didn't quite know how to reply to that. He merely decided to continue. "Her parents were killed during the Bakumatsu because they got mixed up in a fight between a patriot and a supporter of the Bakufu. Because of that, Raikouji-san became distrustful of swordsmen in general."

"You mean Raikouji-san was actually suspicious of swordsmen? He seemed awfully fond of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu philosophies and you in particular," Kaoru indicated, surprised.

"Well, you do remind him of his granddaughter too," Kenshin replied cheerfully.

Kaoru scanned the letter again. "It says here that Chizuru was kidnapped."

"Mama! Just wead it aloud! No mo butt-ins!"

"Okay. Hold your horses, Kenji-chan. Now where was I?"

* * *

"Now where was I? Oh yeah! So these perverts and lechers kidnapped me, calling themselves the Forces of Heaven or something, and after that, the rurouni showed up!" Chizuru detailed, really getting into her story, not really caring whether or not people were listening to her. At the very least, Yahiko would be the only one listening. That was enough for her. It would be better that way, since the boy was no less than appreciative of her stories of Battousai as she knew him.

"I told him to run away, but I was gagged at the time, so the moron misunderstood what I was saying and challenged the gang." Chizuru shook her head in remembrance. "He said some fancy things to them. He really disputed their so-called ideals, looking as if he really knew what he was talking about. But I still thought he was a total wimp and weakling, so I was kind of afraid for his general safety. I mean, it looked like he was out of his league, and there were... thirty? No, forty fighters..."

"Hey, you're trailing off again," Yahiko warned, a bored expression on his face.

"Hey, I'm setting up the atmosphere of the story! Stop interrupting me!" the young adult argued. "Now then, the vagabond resolutely battled the criminals, and they all dropped like flies! I was so scared! The gentle wanderer was actually a killer! A cold-blooded hitokiri!"

Before Yahiko could protest or complain, Chizuru pulled him by the collar. Caught completely off-guard, the seemingly dawdling twenty-something lady was able to take away the cloth-bundled sakabatou from the boy. "What the hell are you doing, you crazy old hag?"

"Shush! You're ruining the moment! We need to visually demonstrate the fight," Chizuru scolded. To her apparently nonexistent audience, she announced, "So the leader and the vagabond-turned-murderer faced off against each other, the cowardly boss wearing impenetrable black iron armor to counter the former hitokiri's sharp blade."

She took off the cloth from Yahiko's sword. 'A-An actual sword? Boy, good thing there aren't any police around here, or else he would have been arrested,' she concluded. She drew the weapon's blade out of its iron sheath. "So the vagabond, the legendary swordsman Battousai, drew his assassin's blade and slashed at the black armor as if it were nothing, killing the conceited kidnapper!"

She stopped mid-swing once she saw the sword's blade... the sakabatou's reverse edge. Despite her surprise, she didn't miss a beat. "But as the leader of the so-called Forces of Heaven group fell, lo and behold! The rurouni revealed that his sword was actually a sakabatou! A sword with a reverse edge! The hostage takers weren't killed; they were merely incapacitated by the protector of the weak, the Battousai!"

She looked at an equally surprised Yahiko. "It's like the vagabond said. It's a sword that can never kill." Her inflection of the statement was relatively the same as her tone of voice during the entire storytelling session, but her inquiring eyes made it look as if she had said it in a perplexed tone.

"This sword isn't something that can kill," the vagabond divulged; a statement that echoed in Chizuru's head as she held the curious weapon with trembling hands.

'What is this guy doing with a reverse-edged sword? Is this the wanderer's one-of-a-kind sakabatou? Who is this boy? What is he doing with this strange weapon?'

"But Chizuru-neechan, why exactly did the robbers get you?" a shy little voice inquired. It was followed by a haughty chide of "They weren't robbers. They were kidnappers."

More questions followed as Chizuru turned around to see their origins. She was taken aback by what she saw. Children had gathered around her while she was telling her stories of the Battousai. From all sides, doors were unlocked and opened as men, women, and children congregated all around the town square, either in rapt attention or passing curiosity.

"What about the Battousai? Surely he's not as frail as you claim him to be! He must have been six or seven feet tall!" one man hooted at Chizuru rowdily.

"Why did he wear a non-killing sword? What does he get out of it?" a middle-aged woman of portly shape chimed in.

"How did he get the cross-shaped scar? Did a legendary swordsman of great caliber give him that mark?"

"You said he was a protector of the weak. So he didn't come here to hurt any of us?" an innocent young girl with light freckles and big, wide eyes asked Chizuru.

"That's right! If what Chizuru-san says is true, then Battousai would never be in league with those... those terrorists! They're just using Battousai's name to further their own agendas!"

Shouts and nods of approval followed the anonymous statement as the crowd happily gathered underneath the mid-afternoon sun.

"Looks like the sword did help save these people," Yahiko concluded as he woke Chizuru from her dreamlike state, taking the sakabatou away from her unresisting hands. "Even if it was just a story of its past deeds, this sword continues to save lives even to this day. Now that these villagers aren't afraid, they don't have to get bullied by those gutless brutes."

"You're saying some weird stuff there, boy," Chizuru rejoined weakly. "Though you're right; with the quickness of word of mouth in these parts, everyone's confidence and self-respect will return in no time. Thank you." She espied the glinting blade that Yahiko presently wielded. "Yahiko, where did you...?"

"Oh, thank goodness you're still here!" a relieved cry from behind the pair conveyed as someone urgently pushed against the multitude. "I'm sorry about the way I treated you both when you came back to the shop."

"Oh, the soba woman!" Yahiko uttered in mild surprise, sheathing and wrapping up his sakabatou. "What are you doing here? Don't tell me you came all the way here just to apologize!"

"My daughter, Kyoko, is gone! She ran away, taking her grandfather's sword with her. I'm afraid..."

'Kyoko? That's right, she's the girl whom I 'rescued' a few hours ago,' Yahiko realized. "Do you know where she could have gone?"

The woman sniffled a bit as she elaborated, "There's no doubt about it! She must have gone to take matters into her own hands! She's going to confront the Battousai Group. She probably went to their hideout in the East Valley to massacre them!"

"Kyoko-chan's going to try and kill those lowlife bastards? That's foolish of her! She's outnumbered for one thing, and for another, she's just a soba shop waitress! What does she know about handling swords?" Chizuru fumed.

"I'm going," Yahiko stated. "Chizuru, stay here."

"Hey, wait!" Chizuru yelped.

"It's too dangerous for you to go with me..." Yahiko explicated, but was interrupted by an ear-twist care of Chizuru.

"I didn't say anything about going with you! I'm no idiot! But what I said about Kyoko applies to you too, y'know! Don't be foolish! Don't throw away your life! There are probably more of those bastards in their hideout. Besides," she muttered, "you still haven't heard my question!"

Regardless of Chizuru's numerous warnings, Yahiko still made his way through the gathered people.

"Don't ignore me!"

His back still turned, the young kendo master spoke. "The vagabond's true name is not Battousai. It's Himura Kenshin. Well, _Kamiya_ Kenshin, but that's another story."

"Eh?" Chizuru managed to say.

"Later. I won't be long," Yahiko called out as he broke into a run, away from the setting sun.

* * *

'I hope I'm not too late,' Yahiko reflected as he silently went into the tree-covered thicket. He remembered the soba lady's words after she caught up with him before he got out of the village.

"Please save my Kyoko-chan. It's all because of that man, Keisuke. He attempted to have his way with her when she was just fifteen. Her father intervened, so they got into a one-on-one fight, which injured my husband. Because of that man..."

Yahiko grit his teeth. 'Women shouldn't be treated like that. My mother had set aside her reputation by working in the pleasure district just so our family could somehow survive this new era. I won't let any woman suffer the way my mother did.' He closed his eyes as Nonoko Sakaguchi's voice echoed a statement that really shook him.

"Because of that man, Kyoko never smiles. He took away her smile from us."

Yahiko scowled at that. 'That man will have more than a broken nose to worry about once I'm through with... Eh?' He sniffed the air around him. There was an unmistakable smell of rusty musk surrounding the entire area. 'What's that smell? Could it be...?'

The kendo master's running pace summarily quickened in cadence with the rate of his own heartbeat. Upon arriving at a makeshift cottage, the young boy's eyes bugged out as they reflected the flicker of crimson.

'Blood?'

There, across the entire landscape, bodies were strewn everywhere. Dead bodies.

He was surrounded by scenes straight out of Kenshin's nightmares... severed body parts, pooling blood, and his own growing nausea. Perhaps this was the closest glimpse he could ever have of the violence of the Bakumatsu.

Nonetheless, this wasn't the overzealous slaughter of a madman. It was more of an efficient, almost clinical extermination, as if the men before him were but mere pests.

How long had they been killed? It didn't matter. Yahiko's heart was already palpitating in panic as he raced out of the darkness of his revolted state when an unexpected sight greeted him.

There, amidst the dead bodies, stood Kyoko, tightly gripping a wooden cane as her eyes shimmered. When she saw Yahiko, she reflexively went into what appeared to be a battoujutsu stance, drawing her sheathed weapon from the sword cane and shivering as the blade glinted.

"You," Yahiko whispered, not able to finish his sentence.

Kyoko eyes widened in recognition. "Y-You... You were the boy who tried to save me." She withdrew her blade, a poignant look in her eyes as she gazed at the full moon. "I wanted to protect my mother with grandfather's Fuyutsuki, but..."

'Fuyutsuki? Winter Moon? Ah, she meant her grandfather's sword. So that's what it's called. But what's with all her tears? She seems to know a bit about kenjutsu. But if that's the case... No way!'

Yahiko held his breath after comprehending an appalling, unbelievable reality. 'No! That can't be true! She couldn't have possibly done it!'

Kyoko sobbed as she fell to her knees. A wet, salty trail freely flowed on her face. "Who could have done such a horrible thing? All these dead people! It revolts me to think what could have happened if I... if I..." The rest of her words became mere burbles as she broke down into sobs.

Yahiko sighed in catharsis as he tried to approach and comfort the distraught girl. 'What a silly thing to think about; an innocent soba waitress killing all these men. But if that's the case, then who...?'

He paused in mid-thought as a bloodied hand grasped his ankle. He looked down at the person who was nearly unrecognizable because of the amount of blood on his face. His broken nose was unmistakable, though.

"Keisuke-san! Are you okay?" Kyoko asked despite herself.

Yahiko still remembered his solemn vow of retribution against the man who took away Kyoko's smile, but even he felt pity for the pathetic condition of the man before them. "You're lucky to be alive. We better get you to a hospital or..."

"Red hair... Cross-shaped scar... Please, get him away from... m-me! Help me!" the near-dead Keisuke pleaded, visibly shaking in mortal fright.

'It can't be. He must be kidding!' Yahiko reckoned, alarmed. 'First the waitress, and now this! I can't take this in all at once! This can't be happening!'

Yahiko was taken out of his confused state after Keisuke's head rolled away just inches from his feet.

Kyoko screamed until her lungs burned as painfully as her throat. Yahiko fought the oncoming queasiness building up in him, but he forgot all about that as he felt someone else's presence: a swordsman's presence.

'Wait. I feel it. Kenki!' He furrowed his eyebrows. 'But that's strange. It isn't the ki of murderous intent. Perhaps it's just an innocent swordsman?'

Yahiko narrowed his eyes in resolution. 'Yeah, right. An innocent swordsman just happened to pass by! Damn, I don't want to leave Kyoko here like this, but...' Regardless of the fact, the youngster raced towards the direction of the kenki, his heart palpitating for some unknown reason.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **A duel between two prodigies.

_Chizuru Raikouji isn't a fan-created character. She is a creation of Nobuhiro Watsuki-sensei, just like Kenshin. She appears in the bonus story of the first volume of Rurouni Kenshin. Her existence helped shaped Rurouni Kenshin to what it is today, truth be told. _

_As for the "mysterious" presence Yahiko that felt, it should be obvious who it truly belonged to judging by the numerous clues presented in the earlier parts of this story. Just read the next chapter to see what I mean._

**Ja ne!_  
_**Abdiel


	4. Chapter 4

"Tsk, tsk. It was an unfortunate waste of time. Oh well. Maybe next time I'll catch up with him," the well-dressed boy reckoned cheerfully, cleaning his blade nonchalantly. "He certainly works fast, I give him that."

Footsteps were heard from around the bamboo groves where the young swordsman was standing. Another young boy of medium build carrying a sword met up with the ever-smiling lad. "Hey! Who are you? What are you doing here?"

'Strange. No one is supposed to detect me. Oh, it's him!' the older boy noted casually as he surveyed the person addressing him. "Good evening! I remember you from the soba shop!"

Yahiko was caught off-guard by the merry greeting. "Ah, so you're the weird guy from the soba shop. The only other customer," he commented, but his eyes suddenly darkened as he saw the young man's bloodied katana. "Who would have thought that I actually chanced upon a psychopath that had a soba fixation? For the last time, who the hell are you? Why did you kill all those men?"

A muted thud was heard. Both of the young men looked over the direction where the soft sound originated. It was Kyoko, her eyes wide with bewilderment and incredulity as her beloved Fuyutsuki fell on the ground. "No. Soujiro-kun! Not you!"

"Y-You know this guy?" Yahiko hesitantly asked Kyoko.

"Of course! I haven't introduced myself," the older boy realized as he calmly sheathed his sword. He clapped his hands excitedly as he addressed Yahiko in a courteous manner. "My name is Seta Soujiro. It's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

_A fight between two counterparts._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Two Prodigies**

* * *

Soujiro Seta smiled pleasantly at Yahiko Myojin, bowing as if he was politely addressing an old friend. "I'm really sorry for the mess. What a dreadful thing to happen. Well, I don't mean to be rude, but I have to get going."

"The HELL you will!" Yahiko shouted out as he unwrapped the cloth-bound sakabatou, waking an apparently shocked and surprised Kyoko Sakaguchi out of her dazed trance. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Psycho-Kid!"

"Oh? I'm not a psycho-kid," Soujiro disagreed, blinking at Yahiko's statement. He soon after beamed, laughing daintily. "That's silly. I'm already twenty-four. I'm not a kid anymore."

'...Which means he didn't deny the 'psycho' part at all?' Yahiko reflected incredulously, making him pause from completely unsheathing his sword at mid-draw. He subsequently sweatdropped as the supposed twenty-four year old clasped both of his hands together in apparent enthusiasm.

"I almost forgot to ask! What's your name?" Soujiro queried pleasantly.

"Uh, Yahiko. Myojin Yahiko..." Yahiko blinked.

"Hey! Stop that!" the Tokyo Samurai Progeny demanded as Kyoko mutely looked at the two swordsmen back and forth, unwilling to interrupt their discussion.

"Stop what?" Soujiro confusedly tilted his head in askance, his eyes inquisitive and innocent.

Yahiko winced at the expression Soujiro made. It reminded him of Kenji whenever the little boy sucked up to Kaoru. He certainly didn't like seeing it on the face of a weird stranger. He also didn't quite like the sound of 'Yahiko-san' coming from the mouth of a murderer.

"I meant, 'Stop your little mind games!' Enough with the 'I'm an innocent, wandering swordsman that wouldn't hurt a fly' act! I've already seen someone else do that act, and quite frankly, I'm not falling for it anymore! You can't fool me so easily!"

'He'd already seen someone do that act?' Soujiro mused to himself. To Yahiko, he commented, "I see."

'It's weird to see two relative strangers act so familiarly with each other. Is this anything like what grandfather said to me about the mutual feeling of brotherhood between all swordsmen?' Kyoko wondered to herself.

Soujiro didn't look at all nonplussed as Yahiko finally brandished his sword. He gave the sixteen year old a clear, steady look. "I'm truly sorry, but this isn't an act. I really have no intention of staying. There's nothing of interest for me here."

Soujiro gave Yahiko a sidelong glance as he left. "See you later, Yahiko-san."

The spike-haired youth just stood there in shock and silence for a couple of minutes as the ever-smiling young man made his way to the exit of the bamboo forest. The young Myojin then repeated his earlier credo; a phrase that explained concisely what he was about to do.

"The hell you will," he whispered as he charged at Soujiro with a jumping strike.

* * *

Soujiro appeared like he was just a little more than puzzled after he turned to face the charging Yahiko. However, the hand on the hilt of his sword didn't even suffer a hint of hesitation as it executed a perfect battoujutsu strike.

A reverberating clang was heard from the two colliding swords.

Yahiko seemed to arrest his downward descent as he spoke, declaring, "I, Myojin Yahiko, Acting Master of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, challenge..."

Yahiko paused in mid-sentence as he saw the chilly smile on Soujiro's saintly face. His eyes went wide as he found himself unceremoniously pushed back a couple of feet away by the older boy with just a simple flick of the sword.

Yahiko tried to catch up with his breath as he recovered from the recoil of Soujiro's counterattack. 'Whoa. With just one move, he was able to push me away like an empty wicker basket,' he mused as he backed a few more steps away from the jovial swordsman. 'He was also able to block my two-handed sword strike with just a one-handed counter.'

Yahiko instantly fell into his usual Jodan-no-Kamae stance, eyeing his opponent warily. 'Speed and power combined; who is this Psycho-Kid?' He glanced at his back as he heard a feminine gasp of shock.

Kyoko's eyes shimmered as she just stood there, her agape mouth covered by a trembling hand. "Soujiro-kun," she whispered softly.

Yahiko had just turned his attention back to the situation at hand when his opponent addressed him, stating, "I admit, it was a skillful strike and your form was impeccable. Your kenjutsu is quite good."

The distressing smile Yahiko saw on Soujiro's face a while ago returned as the merry young lad casually put his blade on his shoulder. "But you seem to misunderstand one thing, Yahiko-san."

"Eh?" Yahiko exclaimed cagily. "What are you talking about, Psycho-Kid?"

"I will give you a demonstration to show the difference between the two of us." Soujiro nodded to himself astutely, adding, "I will show you the difference between you and me."

* * *

A few seconds later, Yahiko clutched his stomach in agony as he struggled to keep himself up although his legs were feeling as wobbly as tofu. 'What the hell just happened? One minute, I was just talking to Psycho-Kid, the next...' He gave the subject of his roundabout musings a glare, despite it looking more like a pained wince.

The Acting Master of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu cursed under ragged breaths, flinching at the blurry image of Soujiro Seta before him, standing there all "smiley-smiley" and some such. Yahiko was beginning to really hate that annoying smile.

'How in the world did he...?' Yahiko pondered as he desperately tried to recall what had just occurred the last few moments.

A shout. Yahiko definitely remembered a shout. It was a shout of wonder, gleefulness, and juvenility that was curiously laced with undertones of malice. The shout's description matched the apparition from which it came.

"I accept your challenge, Myojin Yahiko of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu!" the apparition answered with deceptively angelic tones.

Apparition. It was an appropriate description for the "Psycho-Kid" as he unpredictably charged at Yahiko. He was just like a specter; a phantom of some sort. It certainly was the case as he disappeared midway in his dash like a ghost.

He also remembered the sound of rapid beatings on the ground. It was like the buzz of a large dragonfly's flapping wings when it neared one's ear.

Yahiko had idly wondered at the time if Soujiro's technique was anything like Takae's invisibility trick.

It wasn't.

It wasn't like anything he had ever seen before. It was different; completely different. Those were the thoughts in Yahiko's head as he skidded away from the recoil of Soujiro's first strike.

'I can't breathe,' Yahiko surmised in panic. He gradually calmed down as he gulped large amounts of air in deep breaths. 'I wasn't even able to lay one strike on him!' he considered, frustrated. 'It looks like I'm outclassed.'

The spike-haired boy furthered his contemplations despite the nasty cough he'd developed after accidentally choking on his spit while wheezing. 'If it wasn't like Takae's technique, then there's only one other explanation for his sudden disappearance at mid-charge. Speed. It was his speed... his incredible, pure speed... that made it possible. Could it be that he was even faster than...?'

Yahiko shook his head vehemently as if to clear it. 'No, that can't be right. But still, this Soujiro guy...' the young man deliberated in his head as he struggled to put his theories into order. 'Unless I'm finally going out of my mind, the speed that Psycho-Kid used was even faster than Kenshin's Divine Speed!'

He breathed with a bit of difficulty as he regarded his cheerful opponent cautiously. 'No way. Nobody can beat Kenshin's speed. Those are just stupid thoughts running in my head. But still, it's quite obvious that his sword skill is better than mine. There is no comparison. He's at the very least within Kenshin's skill level. Oh man. What have I gotten myself into? I might have bitten off more than I could chew.'

Yahiko gripped his abdomen. Soujiro had struck him just a little above his midsection, which was the same place where Takae had nearly gutted him just a few weeks ago. His midriff flared in remembrance of pain; a memory of stinging warmth.

However, it was only a recollection and a memory.

'Wait a second!' Yahiko ruminated, trailing off as he checked his abdomen. Sure enough, there wasn't a tear, slice, or cut on it; just a bruise and a vague, passing feeling of having the wind knocked out of him. He trembled in barely contained anger. "Psycho-Kid."

"Oh, you're still standing?" Soujiro simply questioned, as if he'd just noticed Yahiko's presence. "You're a very tenacious individual, Yahiko-san."

"You're not _deliberately_ making fun of me, are you?" Yahiko asked in an annoyed tone.

"What do you mean?" Soujiro obliviously queried in return.

"You flipped your blade when you struck me," Yahiko declared plainly, as if merely stating a fact, but his eyes contrastingly glinted of annoyance and enmity. "I resent that. I hate it when people hold back and underestimate me!"

"Please don't misunderstand, Yahiko-san. I have no quarrel with you. The earlier attack was just a warning. Please don't involve yourself or Kyoko-san in this situation," Soujiro honestly beseeched, his eyes clear and cloudless.

Yahiko exerted himself as he straightened his body out from its slouching position using the embedded sakabatou as a supportive counterweight. "Yeah? Well, you should have thought about that before you killed all those..."

The sixteen year old blinked at Soujiro as his jovial opponent started eyeing his reverse-edged sword strangely. "Um, what are you looking at?"

Soujiro actually walked closer towards Yahiko to give the sword a closer inspection. 'How curious; why is the reverse side of his sword entrenched within a bamboo stalk? Could it be...?'

A mysterious grin escaped Soujiro's lips. 'Is that sword he's holding the sakabatou? Himura-san's reverse-edged sword?' The emotionally bereft youth rubbed his chin thoughtfully as his mind drifted to another plain of reality.

'Surely it could be no other than the sakabatou. There's only one left, especially since I destroyed the original,' Soujiro pondered to himself as he blissfully reminisced.

The twenty-four year old studied the novice wanderer in the corner of his eye, giggling as he felt the young lad tremble in irritation and fury. 'Well-trained, but he still acts a lot like a child. Hmmm. It's too bad I can't relate to him because I never had the chance to experience any sort of childhood since I was eight years old,' he thought.

'Who is this Myojin Yahiko? Why does he carry Himura-san's prized sakabatou?' Soujiro briefly and absentmindedly pondered before his familiar beatific smile reappeared on his face. 'Interesting. How very interesting indeed.'

"Hey! Stop that! You're freaking me out!" Yahiko yelped. He afterwards narrowed his eyes as he muttered, "Hey."

Grasping the hilt of the sakabatou tightly, Yahiko hastily dislodged his sword from the bamboo stalk, swinging it deliberately towards Soujiro's smiling face.

"Don't ignore your opponent while still in combat! This isn't..." was what Yahiko raged before he trailed off once he realized that he had just swung the sakabatou into thin air. "Where'd he go this time?"

"I'm sorry to say, but your sword slash just now could have been executed better, Yahiko-san," Soujiro pointed out matter-of-factly seconds later as he stood a good six feet away from Yahiko. "It kind of disappointed me, I'm afraid; _especially_ after comparing it to the strength of your earlier attack on me."

"Shut up! Nobody asked you!" Yahiko spat. 'Dammit. He evaded my strike? Even with his face so close to my sword?'

Yahiko idly wondered just _why_ the older boy was studying his sakabatou so intently. 'Man. That really freaked me out. What's up with that?' The teenager shuddered at the notion.

"How old are you?"

Yahiko paused for a minute before the question registered in his head. "I just turned sixteen... Hey! You're doing one of those mind games of yours again!"

Soujiro merely nodded in response before he returned to his musings.

"Soujiro-kun, why?" Yahiko heard Kyoko ask. As he glanced over the girl's direction, it was clear that she was still in shock, cradling her grandfather's sword like a newborn babe.

Yahiko exhaled as he focused his gaze on his enemy. It was clear at this point that Soujiro was again deep in apparent contemplation, smiling carelessly and ceaselessly. 'Jeez, does he have _any_ other expression on his face other than 'happy' and 'happier'?'

Yahiko could've attacked Soujiro again then and there because of the older boy's current state. 'What a weirdo.' But after seeing the result of his earlier assault, he decided to keep his guard up instead. 'He's an incredible swordsman, but still a weirdo.'

* * *

Soujiro felt strange. There was no other word for it.

Here he was, standing before a complete stranger that had affected him somehow. Mentally. Emotionally. Well, certainly not physically, but he digressed.

This was most probably caused by his curious emotive reaction to the reverse-edged sword the young boy was carrying... the sakabatou. Kenshin Himura's sakabatou.

It was the sword that had changed his life forever. Actually, Makoto Shishio's wakizashi supposedly changed his life as well, but after the battle with the Battousai, he had learned that no tangible little thing could truly change a life. Mere objects didn't have as much impact as major events and great people did. Life, on the other hand, was always shifting, always dynamic, and composed of many little changes. It could never be stagnant.

He shouldn't blame a sword for his moment of hesitation and... weakness. 'Such a loaded word.' It was probably the nostalgic feeling he had in himself that was causing him to be like this.

'My, my. I'm thinking weird thoughts again,' Soujiro supposed, chuckling.

Memories started flooding Soujiro's mind like water from a broken dam. It was a dam that was never repaired, just mostly ignored until the next torrential downpour confirmed its existence. It was a dam broken years ago by a battle with a man who would have protected him, had he only been there during the...

'Another silly thought.'

The reminiscences continued to deluge his mind, the heavy torrent in his psyche unforgiving and merciless. First, there were the memories he had of an old colleague. He was a strange, bat-winged, and gaunt man; the explosives expert of the Juppon Gatana: Soaring Henya of the Ten Swords.

Soujiro repetitively and deliberately made passing mentions and subtle inquiries to Henya concerning his defeat in Aoiya whenever they had a chance to meet and reminisce.

A resounding harrumph was the only response he ever got from his fellow former Juppon Gatana member concerning that delicate topic.

'Although I've met with him a couple of times more, Henya-san was still tight-lipped about the subject for some strange reason. However, he did mention something about a flying door and a lucky shot.' Soujiro chortled at the idea, but his mirth was soon replaced by seriousness hidden behind an ecstatic grin.

'Hmmm. According to the intelligence reports that Houji-san related to Shishio-san and me six years ago...'

"Four women, only two grown men, an old man, and a child will be present in Aoiya as of tomorrow morning," Houji Sadojima of the Hundred Sense informed Shishio and Soujiro smugly during the preliminary stages of their planned ambush. "They're the only resistance the Juppon Gatana will meet at that inn. How can we not win?"

'Houji-san had mentioned a child. Can Yahiko-san be that child?'

"The attack on Aoiya has failed. Iwanbo has fled, and Henya, Kamatari, Fuji, and Saizuchi have been arrested," a more infuriated and disheveled version of Houji detailed in Soujiro's wistful reverie. "They even had a giant with them! How could we fail? Why were they defeated?"

Then there came Shishio's piercing words.

"They were stronger than us. That's the simple truth."

Afterwards, there were Soujiro's own words.

"After all, in this world, the flesh of the weak is the food for the strong. The strong live, the weak die. But it's okay. I'm strong, so I can do the work of all the Juppon Gatana combined, can't I?"

'Strength. Another loaded word.'

He deliberately glazed over the events following that conversation. It was an incident that he had already replayed in his mind over and over. He felt no need to linger on that particular memory.

'It's time to turn my contemplations back to the situation at hand.'

Slowly, Soujiro focused his attention on the boy holding Battousai's signature weapon. 'Could it be? Could it be that the little boy in Aoiya and this young man before me are one and the same? If I'm guessing correctly, then this person was able to defeat a member of the Juppon Gatana... probably Henya... when he was only a mere child. Then there's the fact concerning his current possession of Himura-san's sakabatou.'

Soujiro's heartbeat steadily quickened in anticipation. 'He just turned sixteen, so six years ago, during the attack on Aoiya, he was merely a ten-year-old boy. I was still a pathetic little stripling under Shishio-san's protective wing when I was about that age.' His smile grew.

'This boy was just ten years old, and yet he was able to defeat one of Shishio-san's premiere fighters at that very tender age.' The ever-smiling young lad's excited heartbeat palpitated even faster. 'How fascinating. I want to see what he's truly capable of, this Myojin Yahiko.'

* * *

"Myojin Yahiko-san of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu," Soujiro unexpectedly and smilingly addressed as his eyes quickly focused on his surroundings and on his immediate opponent.

"Humph. That's my name, don't wear it out," Yahiko rejoined gruffly, tensing himself for battle. 'This guy's as unpredictable as they get. What's he planning now?'

Soujiro looked at Yahiko jubilantly, a curious glint in the amused young man's eyes. "To tell you the truth, I feel a bit excited about this duel of ours," he confessed to the dumbstruck kendoist.

"'Duel', eh? For a while there, I thought you didn't want to fight," Yahiko retorted as he fell into his standard kendo stance. "But it seems that your killer instincts have reemerged again. Well, after I'm done with you, you still have a lot of explaining to do concerning what happened to all those men."

'Why? Why is Soujiro-kun acting so strangely?' Kyoko thought as she cautiously backed away from the two swordsmen who were now squaring off upon a dusty pathway. 'The smile on his face right now... I've never seen him smile like that. It's a scary smile. Who is this Myojin Yahiko? Why does he affect Soujiro-kun so much?'

"Well then, I think a reintroduction is in order," Soujiro cheered as he daintily clasped his hands in the same manner as before.

After letting out a rather colorful curse, Yahiko screamed, "NO MORE MIND GAMES! I know who I am and you know who you are. I'm Myojin Yahiko! You're Psycho-Kid! End of story!"

To Yahiko's chagrin, the eternally pleased young lad laughed amicably and freely at his angry proclamation and expense. Kyoko, on her part, worriedly glanced at her friend's current state, undeniable anxiety glinting in her eyes.

"What's so _funny_?" Yahiko challenged, taking up a stance and demeanor reminiscent of one of his former yakuza employer's henchmen in an obvious attempt to intimidate his adversary. "You're not making fun of me, are you?"

"Not at all, Yahiko-san," Soujiro cooed. "I'm just happy that I'm about to get the chance to fight Himura-san's prodigy."

Flabbergasted, Yahiko murmured, "How did you...?" Of course, Soujiro wasn't aware that Kenshin was now known as "Kamiya Kenshin", but that was neither here nor there.

Soujiro dramatically pointed his sword at Yahiko, proclaiming, "This is the fight between two prodigies: the prodigy of Himura Kenshin and the prodigy of Shishio Makoto. I am Seta Soujiro, the former Ten Ken of the Juppon Gatana." His eyes shone maniacally. "Prepare yourself, Myojin Yahiko of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu!"

'The Heaven Sword of the Ten Swords? Shishio Makoto? What the hell is going on?' Yahiko mulled over in his head as he braced himself, expecting the worst.

A stray bamboo leaf briefly floated into Yahiko's field of vision, obscuring his sight for a fraction of a second. That momentary distraction was all it took for Soujiro to start his imperceptible assault.

'He disappeared again using that quickness technique of his,' Yahiko observed. He tried to relax his breathing as his eyes darted back and forth the bamboo grove. 'He's not rushing towards me like before; that probably means that he's serious this time, and not just planning some sort of surprise attack.'

Yahiko loosened his stiff joints as he concentrated hard. 'Dammit, I can't see or sense him at all! He's too quick. Even his kenki is gone. I'm a sitting duck. I'm completely at his mercy.'

For some strange and inexplicable reason, Yahiko visualized a duck in a pond full of dragonflies. 'Eh? Dragonflies?'

The buzz of a large dragonfly's flapping wings grew louder in Yahiko's fantasy as it slowly but surely neared his ear. It was a buzz that sounded very similar to the slight beatings he heard all around him.

Yahiko looked at the ground. Sure enough, miniature gushes were forming on its rocky surface, lined up together in two parallel rows. The sounds increasingly grew as time passed, the zigzagging path of the dirty geysers clearly heading towards his direction.

'These gushes are the only sign that he's still here... small geysers erupting from his quick and rapid footwork!' Yahiko determinedly lifted his sword as the sounds of Soujiro's footsteps neared, becoming somewhat louder than before. 'Then I'll use those flitting footsteps to find him!'

"Imitation Technique! Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu: Ryu Tsui Sen!" Yahiko screamed out as he made a quick and small leap towards the furious trail, his sword ready to strike down his rapidly approaching invisible opponent.

Yahiko's mouth went agape as his sakabatou smashed itself on the ground, pelting rock and debris as it missed its target . He felt a dread chill on the base of his spine as he heard a familiar chortle from behind him.

"I'm afraid to say that your idea to follow the sound of my footsteps," Soujiro started to berate as Yahiko shuddered in a mixture of shock and fear, "was a _bad_ one."

'The speed Psycho-Kid used just now was different from before; frighteningly different.' Yahiko gulped, his back still turned away from his opponent as time seemed to crawl for him. 'So he held back? Not just his sword strike, but his speed as well?'

Without any warning or ceremony, Yahiko felt a sharp, mindless pain pierce through the very depths of his consciousness as Soujiro stabbed his shoulder. He only had one thought in his mind as he yowled a horrid screech that cut through the very heart of his soul.

'Oh my God! He's not holding back this time!'

* * *

Yahiko tried... he desperately tried... but he just couldn't measure up; not at all. 'With all that pure speed and skill, he's not just within Kenshin's level. He's Kenshin's match!' Tears burned through the teenager's closed eyes. 'He's definitely out of my league; Shishio's right hand man, Seta Soujiro.'

"NOOOO! Stop it! Soujiro-kun, please stop!" Kyoko squealed in the background, but to Yahiko, those girlish cries sounded like they were miles away from him as his body became numb with fear.

'He's too strong.' Yahiko struggled for air; moreover, the sharp ache on his shoulder had a curious lethargic effect on him. 'At this rate, only Kenshin could stop him.' From the fading panic that penetrated through his drowsiness, Yahiko was able to grimly reflect, 'But Kenshin's not here,' despite his quickly vanishing awareness.

Fear. He felt fear. He felt afraid and vulnerable at that one moment... the moment he'd feared the most. It was a moment of weakness that he'd be ashamed to admit to anyone, even to himself.

It was the moment where he was helpless and Kenshin wasn't there to save him; his greatest fear.

'That speed...'

Kenshin wasn't there to fight against it.

'That power...'

Kenshin wasn't there to rescue him.

'I'm scared.'

Kenshin wasn't there.

'I'm so scared.'

Kenshin was gone.

So there he was... bleeding, dying, powerless, and defenseless. He wanted so dreadfully to become strong; but now, all of that was for naught.

'How humiliating.'

Because he, Yahiko Myojin, Son of a Tokyo Samurai, had just revealed to himself how much of a coward he really was.

* * *

'Hmmm. It seems that, for a moment there, I became a bit overexcited,' Soujiro sheepishly admitted to himself as he flicked the blood off of his sword. 'I didn't even notice that I had used the true Shukuchi until it was too late. I should have instead utilized the Shukuchi with three steps done beforehand like in my first attack. I practically overwhelmed the poor boy.'

The former Ten Ken of the Juppon Gatana stared at the wretched-looking Yahiko with pity in his eyes. He smilingly sighed. 'Using my true speed against a weaker opponent; how irresponsible of me.'

He pouted just a little more as he saw the glistening tears in the Tokyo Samurai Descendant's eyes. 'The willingness to fight has already left his eyes. They've became the eyes of an innocent bystander amidst the presence of a murderer.'

Soujiro then felt a nearly imperceptible flicker of unease as he heard Yahiko sob and grovel on the ground.

Yahiko grasped his bleeding wound as he apprehensively inched away from the older boy. The distressed teenager held his sakabatou in front of him like it was some sort of reverse-edged shield as he inclined his bloodied back against a wall of bamboo stalks.

'How disappointing.'

The everlastingly polite Soujiro sheathed his sword, sighing in defeat even though the opposite was actually true. 'My thoughts about this boy and his skill are mistaken. I feel that I had expected too much from him. It seems that I had overestimated this Myojin Yahiko.' He looked around, nodding to himself. 'I guess it's finally time for me to go.'

"Soujiro-kun! Soujiro-kun! Please wait!" an insistent voice urgently pleaded. The subject of the summons gave no heed to it until he heard the demanding and uncharacteristic yell of, "Seta Soujiro!"

"Kyoko-san?" Soujiro asked uncertainly as he blinked in mild surprise. He didn't expect his usually acquiescent acquaintance to be so vehement and impolite.

"I'm sorry," Kyoko apologized, embarrassed by her supposed earlier rudeness. "I was trying to call your attention, but you ignored me." She slipped her grandfather's Fuyutsuki inside her cloth belt. "As I was trying to say before, I'm afraid that I cannot let you leave."

Soujiro had a puzzled and pensive expression on his smiling face as he looked at his female friend without a word of protest or complaint escaping his lips.

Kyoko, though visibly agitated, persisted through subdued tones, "I am here to fight you. Prepare yourself."

Upon hearing the ridiculous statement, Soujiro stared at Kyoko with skepticism. 'How could she say that with such fear in her voice? It seems that she's even more afraid to fight than Yahiko-san is. It's just that she's more polite about it.' He'd laugh, but that was a very impolite thing for a compatriot to do to an obviously sensitive companion.

"For the sake of the lives you've taken and f-for the b-boy's sake as well..." Kyoko trailed off, her voice choked with unbridled emotion. She noticeably shook as she went into battoujutsu stance, her hand trembling helplessly at the hilt of her grandfather's sword.

'Please, stop shaking!' Kyoko mentally beseeched to her body before she willed herself to continue. "F-For their sake, I have chosen to fight. I am Sakaguchi Kyoko of the Musou Madden School. Please prepare yourself, Soujiro-kun."

Soujiro couldn't help himself this time as he daintily chortled. He afterwards made an apologetic chopping motion with his right hand. "Excuse me. I didn't mean to laugh, but it's quite obvious that you don't want to fight. You're panicked and afraid; you yourself know this. Please stop forcing yourself to be brave. You don't have to get involved. Go home to Sakaguchi-san and let things be."

"I will not stand down!" Kyoko roared, surprising even herself with the forcefulness and intensity of her words.

"Oh?" Soujiro asked patronizingly, adding, "And why is that, Kyoko-san?"

"Because," the double pony-tailed girl seemed at a loss for words before she determinedly avowed, "this h-has nothing to do with my willingness to fight." She resolutely grasped Fuyutsuki's handle tightly, even though her hand still continued to tremble. "I... I only do what I have to do. I-I'll be the first one to admit that I am... w-weak-hearted, but I would like to think that I can be strong when the situation deems it necessary."

Unnoticed by either of the two affable companions lost in an awkward moment of confrontation, a boy's eyes sparkled briefly in blurry awareness as he heard the girl's impassioned declaration. From there, he silently mouthed the powerful words that had cut through the haze of his mind.

"Be... strong?"

Bamboo leaves started raining upon the two new soon-to-be combatants as Kyoko Sakaguchi desperately pushed her waning self-confidence to the limit, lest it quickly left her completely.

"A great man once told me that, even though I didn't want to, I would eventually fight for what I believed in. But as much as possible, if I really had to fight, I should not fight just because of some principle."

Kyoko smiled sadly at Soujiro, which made the young man stand back in surprise. "He told me to fight for a dream. A goal. A wish."

'Kinta-sama was a very wise and nice person; just like you, Soujiro-kun,' Kyoko reminisced as she breathed deeply, bracing herself again as she resumed her passionate speech.

"I'm going to fight you to fulfill that wish, Soujiro-kun." Seeing no response on Soujiro's part, Kyoko resumed, "Mother always did tease us with her 'boy that always smiles' and 'girl that never smiles' quips. Didn't we promise to each other that if I'd continue to search for the person that would make me smile, you, in turn, would continue to search for the person that you could openly cry with? I have never forgotten that promise."

Soujiro nodded absently to what Kyoko was saying, lost in his own ruminations.

"It's a promise to humanize yourself... _ourselves_, Soujiro-kun," Kyoko clarified, her eyes shimmering. "It's that promise that has compelled me to fight. I'm fighting for my wish; my wish for humanity. Your humanity."

Soujiro snickered at that. He remembered Kyoko's sad smile, not realizing that the same sad smile was now etched upon his face.

"Soujiro-kun, please. Say something. Tell me why you did it," Kyoko implored sullenly. "Why did you murder all those people?"

At last, Soujiro spoke. "I am afraid I am not clean enough to deserve such redemption."

Kyoko shut her eyes as she bit her quivering lip. "Okay. Then I have to do this." Ignoring the pain of her heart that mingled with her growing anxiety, she rapidly charged.

'Grandfather. Father. Kinta-sama. Please, give me strength,' she entreated as she pledged, "I will defeat you, Soujiro-kun!"

"Kyoko! Psycho-Kid! STOP!"

Kyoko and Soujiro glanced at the source of the ardent objection as they both paused in the middle of their mutual charge.

"Yahiko-san?" Soujiro inquired in a half-surprised, half-puzzled tone.

The boy in question gingerly got up from his crouching position near the now-bloodied bamboo stalks, grasping his shoulder in an effort to lessen the bleeding. "I feel so ashamed."

Yahiko looked up, his eyes containing neither fear nor anger. Humiliation and humility were its only contents. "I was petrified by you just because you were Shishio's right hand man and an even match against Kenshin. But here was Kyoko, ready to fight you even though she probably dreaded the prospect of doing so more than I did." He quickly grasped the sakabatou with both hands. "She's much braver than me."

"Please, Yahiko-san!" Kyoko addressed, remembering the spike-haired boy's name at the last minute. "You're hurt, and this is hardly your fight anymore!" she half-pleaded, half-reproached.

Yahiko grinned widely at the young girl. "I'm sorry. I was such a moron. I originally came here at your mother's request to save you, but once I saw all those dead people and Psycho-Kid over there, I became self-righteous and arrogant. I wanted so desperately to prove to myself that I could beat Psycho-Kid with my current abilities that I lost sight of what I was supposed to do."

Kyoko at last put two and two together, remembering where she had seen the conceited boy before. 'He was the one who challenged Keisuke and his gang this morning!' To Yahiko, she reproved, "Thank you, but I don't feel the need to be rescued."

Yahiko's grinning face turned serious. "I know." Getting Kyoko's full attention, he persisted, stating, "I understand your position. I know that you wanted to get that bastard Keisuke yourself. You didn't like the fact that he made you feel so helpless and violated; that's why you're here right now. You tried to be brave, even though you felt you couldn't. You wanted to be strong so that nobody could make you feel helpless anymore."

Yahiko sighed. 'Boy, did that sound familiar.'

"Like I said before, I won't be fighting Psycho-Kid for the sake of my own self-righteousness." The Kamiya Kasshin Ryu practitioner briefly glanced at the blissful-looking swordsman, wincing a bit in annoyance. "It looks like the two of you are the best of friends. And, even though I don't like Psycho-Kid all that much, I hate it when friends fight each other. I myself would hate it if I were put in a position where I had to fight a close friend of mine. So I have to do this."

"Y-Yahiko-san," Kyoko stuttered in awe. 'He's so spirited. He's a lot like Chizuru-san and Satsuki-neechan.'

"Hey! Psycho-Kid! Did you hear that? I'm still going to fight!" Yahiko called out boisterously. "Let's finish this."

Soujiro laughed gaily and openly. "Very well. Though, I must warn you, I doubt you'll survive another charge with that wound of yours, Yahiko-san." With his proverbial mask of happiness still intact, Soujiro promptly unsheathed his sword. "I'm sorry to say, but that's the truth."

"Is that so?" Yahiko snorted. "How arrogant of you."

Soujiro shook his head earnestly. "This isn't arrogance. This is one of the most important things I've learned in my life as a swordsman. Having pure motives and good intentions doesn't assure you of a victory in the end. Even though it sounds sad and tragic, it's still strength and skill and not purpose and resolve that determines who will win and who will lose. Even though you're determined to win, you will still lose."

"Really now?" Yahiko growled as he struggled within himself to find his inner calm. 'I saw how Kyoko smiled at you, Soujiro. She has already found the person she could smile with. And because of my moment of weakness, I nearly forced a girl to fight the one person she'd hate to fight the most. Because of that, I cannot afford defeat.'

Kyoko reflexively flinched as she saw a couple of leaves snap right in front of her. "Snapping leaves?" she ponderously whispered. 'Is this...?'

"Call me stubborn, but even though you say that, Psycho-Kid..."

'Is this the phenomenon grandpa told me about? The phenomenon called...?'

'With my sword, I'll make it my destiny to protect. I will not allow failure.'

"I'LL NEVER GIVE UP!" Upon shouting out his declaration, a thin bamboo stalk from behind Yahiko was all of a sudden split in half, startling the only two people who witnessed it.

'Kenki,' Soujiro thought delightedly.

* * *

The furious exchange of sword strikes between the two prodigies was brief.

Seconds seemed to pass forever as they stood there with their backs turned, the intensity of their respective attacks creating a powerful updraft of ferocious wind that scattered the bamboo leaves across the landscape.

Myojin Yahiko was the first one to fall as a dark, moist stain grew on his blue shirt.

A delighted voice inside the young Tokyo Samurai's psyche began mocking him.

"Having pure motives and good intentions doesn't assure you of a victory in the end."

'No. Oh God, no.'

"Even though it sounds sad and tragic, it's still strength and skill and not purpose and resolve that determines who will win and who will lose."

'I missed? I still missed?'

"Even though you're determined to win, you will still lose, Yahiko-san."

'I still... failed?'

Yahiko ground his teeth in frustration and desperation. 'No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, and no matter how determined I am, I still can't beat him. Why?'

* * *

'No good!' Kyoko summed up as she looked at the crouched and bloodied form of Yahiko. 'He's still not strong enough. Even though his fighting spirit is incredible, it's still not enough.'

'Disappointed again,' Soujiro cogitated as he looked at his bloodied blade with a touch of dissatisfaction on his merry features. 'I was kind of expecting him to rise to the challenge, but it was apparently too much for me to ask. What a pity.'

* * *

A stray memory entered Yahiko's mind. It contained a vision of himself and Kenshin six years ago, when Chou had just visited them to talk about what happened after the death of Makoto Shishio and the dissolution of the Juppon Gatana.

"Hey, Kenshin. We won. Aren't we the ones who are right?" It was a query that came from the ten-year-old Yahiko's mouth.

"If you think might makes right, you're the same as Shishio Makoto. Which side was right is up for future generations to decide. What we can do now is believe in what we know ourselves to be true and fight for it." That was Kenshin's own idealistic answer.

A new query... a more contemporary statement... was asked by the sixteen-year-old Yahiko.

"But what if you were sure to lose? No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, no matter how determined you are, you still can't win? What will you do then?"

"Well, well, Yahiko," Kenshin drawled in the kendoist's perceptive mind. "You already know the answer to that."

* * *

Soujiro looked at his katana, feeling as though something was amiss. 'How curious.' He cautiously cleaned the blade with a handkerchief, inspecting it carefully. 'Well, no nicks or scratches on the edge itself. I'm fairly sure that the sakabatou wasn't even able to touch the blade as I slashed Yahiko-san. I must be imagining things.'

His eyes then widened in mild surprise.

* * *

Tsubame blushed hard as she took the red string back and kneeled down.

"Huh?" Yahiko blurted. "Tsubame, what are you...?"

The youth went silent as the teenaged girl started tying the string tightly on his sandals. 'This is just like the first time we met.'

Tsubame smiled as she got up. "It's so you'll never forget, Yahiko-kun. I hope you'll find what you're looking for, so do have a safe trip!" she urged optimistically.

Yahiko grinned in kind, turning quickly lest he risk letting Tsubame see his reddened face. He directed a sidelong glance towards her. "Tsubame."

"Y-Yes?" Tsubame choked as her heart got caught in her throat. It was a familiar anxiety, but an ultimately welcome nervousness.

"The address I got from the post office was the Akabeko's instead of the Kamiya Dojo's. I'm entrusting you the task of getting the letters delivered to Kenshin, Kaoru, and Kenji. Good-bye."

"But why would you do that if it would be easier to mail..." her words were cut off as Yahiko looked at her with clear brown eyes that spoke volumes.

Tsubame nodded timidly to Yahiko, putting up a brave and hopeful face. "Thank you." There was no need for more words as the girl gazed at the retreating figure of her beloved. The scene was simplicity itself.

It was a memory of an unsaid promise of mutual understanding.

'When I finally return to Tokyo, I will return as a man, Tsubame! Wait for me!'

* * *

"Didn't we promise to each other that if I'd continue to search for the person that would make me smile, you, in turn, would continue to search for the person that you could openly cry with? I have never forgotten that promise." This was Kyoko's pleading pledge to Soujiro.

'When I finally return to Tokyo, I will return as a man, Tsubame! Wait for me!' This was Yahiko's unsaid promise to Tsubame.

'A samurai's word is his bond. Though I didn't even state my promise to Tsubame, I will still stake my life on it,' Yahiko avowed as he struggled to get up. The stinging warmth he felt on his abdomen was very real this time, instead of just a passing remembrance of pain. However, he barely took heed of it. 'I know how important your wish is to you, Kyoko. I know that you'll do anything for that wish.'

Yahiko steeled his nerves. 'I know. Because I also have the same sort of wish.'

"He told me to fight for a dream. A goal. A wish."

'I also want to fight for a dream, a goal, and a wish, Kyoko.'

"Even though it sounds sad and tragic, it's still strength and skill and not purpose and resolve that determines who will win and who will lose."

'Even though I hate to admit it, Psycho-Kid's probably right.'

"But what if you were sure to lose? No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, no matter how determined you are, you still can't win? What will you do then?"

'What will I do now?'

"You already know the answer to that."

'Yes, I do. Even if I were sure to lose, I will still fight for a wish and a promise.'

A memory of Tsubame blushingly tying a red string on Yahiko's sandals filled the young man's psyche.

'Because even when faced with insurmountable odds, some wishes are just worth fighting for!'

* * *

'So,' Soujiro amusedly pondered, 'he was able to anticipate my attack.'

The former Ten Ken sniggered. 'I was so concentrated on slashing his gut as fast as possible that I didn't notice that he had hit the hand guard of my sword instead.' He trailed his finger on the currently exposed metal band that separated blade from hilt. 'Meaning the sakabatou strike was able to absorb the power of my sword strike; which, in turn, means that...'

"Psycho-Kid!" Yahiko yelled. "That last attack was pathetic! I was cut deeper by an old, decrepit ninja!"

'This is beginning to become a fight to enjoy,' Soujiro Seta concluded as he prepared his offensive stance once more. "Really? That's nice. I'd like to comment on your performance as well, but unfortunately, your sword has yet to touch me."

Yahiko nearly growled at his adversary's mostly correct remark. 'It's one thing for him to insult my sword skills since he's a better swordsman and all... but to do it with that smiley face of his? If he thinks he's so hot, then he should challenge me to a fist fight to see who's the better man!'

'Yahiko-san. Soujiro-kun. They're both really good fighters. I sort of envy them, knowing my vast inexperience in swordsmanship,' Kyoko weighed up in silent awe as she openly gawked at the two prodigies.

'Psyche me out, will you? Well, two can play this game!' the spike-haired young lad fumed as he visibly tried to calm himself down. "Humph. I don't know about that. I _was_ able to anticipate your last strike."

"Yes, I must confess that it was an incredible, one-time fluke. I applaud your efforts," Soujiro jovially confessed.

Yahiko tried his best not to fall face-first on the ground in utter shame. That done, he angrily retorted, "Oh yeah? Well, your last attack sucked!" 'Why did it suck? It nearly made my guts spill out of my stomach.' "Because it was... slower than your second attack and... a little faster than your first attack!" 'I think.'

The Tokyoite paused musingly as he noticed something off beam. 'Hey, what happened to Psycho-Kid's hand guard?' His jaw slackened in disbelief. 'Did I break it? Could I have actually come close to hitting him?'

Soujiro regarded the Tokyo Samurai with uncharacteristic wariness, though it came out looking more like a blissful, closed-eye expression because of his joyful smile. 'He is correct. I used two steps before the Shukuchi in my last assault. Can Yahiko-san actually tell how fast my Shukuchi is?'

The former Ten Ken took an unhesitating step forward, rousing himself from his own musings. 'Fine. I'll believe it once I see it,' he decided. To Yahiko, he forewarned, "If so, then prepare yourself. Here I go."

Soujiro's image completely disappeared within the span of a fraction of a second.

Yahiko's heart palpitated faster. He closed his eyes as the furious yet subtle beats of Soujiro's footsteps came nearer and nearer. 'Looks like he called my bluff! He's charging again like nothing happened! Okay, Yahiko; _ pray_ that it wasn't a fluke.'

* * *

Kaoru's visage rapidly entered Yahiko's mind's eye. Or was it Chizuru's? The Descendant of Tokyo Samurai wasn't completely sure. He was subsequently whacked on the head with a shinai. "You got it all wrong again! Pay attention to what you're doing!"

Yup, it was definitely Kaoru's visage, all right.

"What now, old hag?" the ten-year-old version of Yahiko's self growled irritably. "I got the whole exercise right, didn't I? I did the dumb move perfectly!"

"Technically, yes. You did do the 'dumb' move correctly," Kaoru agreed in a tone that wasn't very agreeable at all. "But I wasn't talking about the move. You got the execution all wrong! A true Kamiya Kasshin Ryu practitioner should have..."

Yahiko yawned as he blocked the rest of Kaoru's rant from his mind. 'Blah, blah, blah. Why the hell is she so fussy? What got her ponytail in a knot? Like she said, I practically mastered the Hiza-something-or-whatever already! Does she really need to harp on me all the time?' he wondered to himself irritably as he idly cleaned his ear with his pinky.

Yahiko immediately felt a sharp pain on that very same ear as Kaoru callously pinched and twisted it. Hard. "Listen when somebody is talking to you!"

The disobedient young boy rolled his eyes as he slapped Kaoru's hand away. "Oh, forgive me. I must have missed something really important from that worn-out rant of yours! Something that hasn't been said to me a _thousand_ times, I'll bet! Oh, woe is me."

Yahiko started to mockingly mimic Kaoru's gestures as he reiterated his teacher's rant. "'Yahiko, you're practicing Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, not Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu! Kamiya Kasshin Ryu is a defensive technique, dammit! Stop charging like a bull and _anticipate_ your opponent for once!' Yeah right, like that would do me any good; 'confronting' my enemy by just _standing_ there, eh? What's so manly about that? I ain't gonna do no cowardly move like that!"

Kaoru looked at Yahiko with half-lidded eyes as she smacked him on the head with a slipper. "Are you done talking? Yes? Good." She breathed in deeply to regain her composure. After accomplishing this, she let all hell break loose.

"You are such a conceited, foul-mouthed butthead! Grow up first before you even try mastering that move! Stop being so full of yourself!"

Yahiko shrugged as he made his way out of the dojo. "I'll be in the longhouse if you need me."

Kaoru seethed as she shouted out to Yahiko, "If you don't know how to _ really_ execute a Kamiya Kasshin Ryu technique, then you'll never master the school, you moron!"

As the imaginary Yahiko closed his eyes, the real Yahiko then opened his, finally awakening from his reverie. He breathed in deeply as he started preparing the first few steps prior to the execution of the Tsuka no Gedan: Hiza Hijiki. 'I knew I could always count on you when the chips are down, old hag.'

Yahiko fell into ready stance, his head buzzing with all sorts of ideas as he awaited his unseen enemy's next move. 'It's now or never, Psycho-Kid. Come at me with everything you've got. I'm ready.'

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **Fight's conclusion.

_If you think the "Soujiro Seta as the main rival" motif is overkill considering Yahiko's current skill level, let me put it this way: Sesshoumaru is certainly well beyond Inuyasha's skill level, so let's just consider Soujiro as Yahiko's Sesshoumaru. No cut scenes with the Tokyo folks this time around, though._

**Ja ne!_  
_**Abdiel


	5. Chapter 5

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

_The continuation of the fight between two counterparts and the revelation of the truth behind the fake Battousai._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Refrain**

* * *

Chizuru had been worriedly pacing back and forth inside the Sakaguchi Soba Shop for hours on end since that fateful afternoon. Little wonder, because she did have a lot to think about. 'Why is that brat taking so long?'

She remembered Yahiko's earlier statement; it resounded in her consciousness as clearly as an echo would in a deep valley.

"The vagabond's true name is not Battousai. It's Himura Kenshin," she repeated to herself. "Kenshin. What a weird name." It wasn't that the name was strange; to Chizuru, it just appeared unbelievable for the rurouni to even have a name.

She shook her head vehemently. "Who would have thought that that rude young boy could actually know... much less be in league with... the Battousai himself? Unbelievable."

Actually, it was possible in a sense. After all, the Battousai she knew, the wanderer, was a complete and total wimp. For the vagabond to associate with a foul-mouthed brat like Yahiko... and, say, a look-alike of herself and a strong, gangster-type of fellow... wasn't really that much of a stretch of the imagination. In fact, it seemed rather... apt.

Chizuru's mouth went agape. "Where did that come from?" She was having bizarre thoughts again. This wasn't the time for such silliness.

The young lady looked at the small clock atop a nearby table worriedly, and even more so at Nonoko's sleeping form on the counter across her. "Poor Sakaguchi-san. To have her husband transferred to another district was tough enough, but to also have her daughter run away like that during a sensitive time like this is another matter entirely."

The Kaoru doppelganger recalled the last thing Yahiko told her before he left abruptly.

"Later. I won't be long."

'Full of himself, as usual,' Chizuru regarded derisively. "I do hope that that braggart samurai wannabe can put his money where his mouth is," she whispered to herself, imagining several gory scenarios in her head as she expected the worst.

Yahiko had gotten there too late as he saw Kyoko... dishonored.

Yahiko, though he fought valiantly, was overwhelmed by the group of thugs.

Yahiko, his eyes wild, could barely react in time as a sword flew towards his neck...

'That's enough,' Chizuru berated herself. "Dammit, kid. I hope you know what you're doing."

* * *

"I hope I know what I'm doing," Yahiko murmured to himself as he eyed a nearby bamboo grove behind him. He quickly backed up towards said grove, keeping his wary eyes on the quickly approaching geysers on the ground care of Soujiro's rapid footwork.

"Always remember that the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu is a defensive martial arts school. It isn't designed to overwhelm an opponent with pure offense. It's no Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu!" Yahiko could almost hear Kaoru lecture in his head. "The best way to execute a Kamiya Kasshin Ryu maneuver is to fight defensively; at least _Yuta-kun_ understands this."

'Shut up, old hag,' Yahiko mentally scolded, berating the voice in his head. 'Okay then. Let's remember the _important_ things raccoon-girl said.'

"First rule: Set up the distance properly. A mere inch may mean the difference between life and death," Yahiko began reciting to himself mockingly, mimicking Kaoru's high-pitched whine and enumerating everything in his head as if he had it all memorized by heart.

The beatings on the ground started to get louder as they came nearer the Tokyoite.

"Second rule: Position yourself carefully so that you could limit your opponent's movements. Use your environment and surroundings to your advantage."

He took a deep breath as he placed himself in front of a cluster of bamboo in such a way that it looked like he was cornered at a dead end. In reality, it helped Yahiko limit Soujiro's choices of attack; a side attack would be too awkward and a rear attack was out of the question with such a position. There was only one option of assault... a frontal one.

"Third rule: Anticipate. As an inch may mean the difference between life and death, so does a mere fraction of a second. It's all about timing. You may be able to execute a move perfectly, but if the timing is off, then it'll all be over for you."

Yahiko fell into his usual ready stance, his eyes fixed on the zigzagging patterns of Soujiro's mostly undetectable assault.

He heaved a frustrated sigh.

He looked at the charging Soujiro in chagrin. He was looking in chagrin because he couldn't see a charging Soujiro at all.

'Hmmm. I may have a little problem with that third rule Kaoru gave.' The Tokyo Samurai's Son grinded his teeth in frustration. If he attacked with the Hiza Hijiki too early, he'd be wide open. If he attacked too late, well, he'd be too dead to regret it. 'Dammit, of all the people I get to fight, why did it have to be Kenshin Junior?'

Yahiko flinched as a gust of wind brushed up against his face. Thinking that it was Soujiro finally ready to attack, he reflexively backed up a few paces in surprise.

He groaned as he retreated too far into the bamboo grove, his injured shoulder accidentally bumping into one of the stalks. He felt pain anew. His eyes blurred ever so slightly as he fought through the soreness. He concentrated hard to regain focus.

'Shit. I'm all beaten up.'

A thought occurred to him through his haze of anguish. 'Kaoru once said that a swordsman can only open the eyes of the heart once he closes the eyes of man. I'm not completely sure what that means, but I guess it's worth a shot. It's not as if I can see Psycho-Kid anyway.'

Yahiko closed his eyes.

'I only got one chance. No matter how fast he is, his quickness technique is still basically a charging move like the Gatotsu. Once he moves in for the kill, there'll be no turning back for him. The momentum of his assault won't be easily broken.'

Yahiko could hear his heart beating faster and harder, as if it were ready to jump out of his chest. 'It's only a question of when he'll attack.'

"Fourth Kamiya Kasshin Ryu rule: Know your enemy as you know yourself," Yahiko whispered to himself as each passing second became an eternity to him. 'What are you thinking about, Psycho-Kid?'

His heart skipped a beat.

It was now or never.

"Tsuka no Gedan...!"

* * *

Segments of bamboo stalks flew from where Yahiko's neck was just a moment ago.

Yahiko, ducking just in time, was already on the ground, ready to execute the second part of his move. 'I knew it! He held back on his speed again.'

He grinned as he opened his eyes, his vision focusing on the now-visible Soujiro. 'He may be all smiley-smiley on the outside, but on the inside, he definitely still has his fighter's pride. If there's one thing I learned as a petty thief under the yakuza, it's that stronger enemies tend to underestimate their weaker opponents too much.'

'A ducking technique?' Soujiro noted to himself in dull surprise. 'I see. It's a technique used to disable a charging opponent. Well, the Shukuchi is no ordinary charging technique.'

"Hiza Hijiki!" Yahiko shouted as he determinedly charged with the sakabatou aimed directly at one of Soujiro's knees. 'There's no way he could stop his momentum now!'

Soujiro rapidly let out several furious beatings from his powerful legs to halt his momentum. The Ex-Heaven Sword then quickly retreated a good distance away from Yahiko as the younger boy overextended himself.

'Impossible! How could he...?'

Yahiko was now wide open.

With no further disputation or contention, the former Ten Ken shattered the distance between him and Yahiko as he dashed again with his Shukuchi.

* * *

Kyoko almost let out a scream as Yahiko left himself vulnerable to Soujiro's counterattack. 'No! Soujiro-kun! Don't!'

'What now?' Yahiko heard himself think as he just crouched there, stupefied. Another voice... a familiar one... provided him with the answer. The voice was his own.

"The marriage of two techniques: One of perfect defense and the other of unstoppable offense," Yahiko chanted to himself as he saw Soujiro vanish in the blink of an eye. He immediately readjusted his overextension as he took on a different pose.

The exhilaration from Yahiko's own adrenaline rush overwhelmed him so much that his overexcited breathing started to suffocate him. He followed through the Hiza Hijiki, the perfect defensive move, with that of an unstoppable offensive one.

"Imitation Technique! Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu: Ryu Sho Sen!"

* * *

For the third time in a row, Yahiko was able to detect the undetectable Shukuchi.

The sakabatou clanged hard on Soujiro's own sword. For the first time since the fight commenced, Yahiko was able to cross swords with his opponent.

The furious impact of the two swordsmen's respective strikes flung them in opposite directions. Yahiko winced hard as his shoulder once more bumped against a bamboo stalk, yet he laughed heartily at his achievement. He didn't mind the pain at all.

Kyoko almost celebrated alongside Yahiko, but stopped herself short of doing so. 'I'm not siding with this person, am I?' she mused. 'But Soujiro-kun, you're enjoying yourself in this fight as well, aren't you?'

Soujiro effortlessly recovered from his unceremonious flight by means of his effective use of the Shukuchi. After which, he stared at the maniacally laughing Yahiko curiously. "You seem so delighted over such a small accomplishment, Yahiko-san."

Yahiko stopped laughing altogether. He addressed Soujiro derisively, though his smirk was still there. "I guess I just can't help myself. You're a really funny guy, Psycho-Kid."

"Hmmm? What exactly do you mean?" Soujiro inquired.

Yahiko cackled with gusto, though it sounded a bit strained this time around. "You've been using the same speed three times in a row. It's as though you haven't listened to a word I've said. Holding back won't work on me anymore," he explained half-mockingly and half-scornfully through clenched teeth.

Soujiro made an apologetic, chopping motion with his hand. "My bad, Yahiko-san. I'll take you more seriously from now on. I promise." 'Calm down. Deep breath. Composure,' Yahiko recited to himself as he fought against the growing annoyance inside him. Soujiro was one of the few people that could really get under his skin.

The sixteen year old was just about to retort with something nasty about Soujiro's ancestry when he stopped himself cold after he saw the look in his opponent's eyes.

Those eyes; they chilled Yahiko to the bone. It was as if he was staring Death in the eye.

"You seem very fond of Himura-san's Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. However, you do not have a monopoly on his techniques."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Soujiro chuckled. "You'll see, Yahiko-san."

'Is that a smirk on Psycho-Kid's face?' Yahiko contemplated as he stared at Soujiro in disbelief. He backed away ever so slightly as the elder boy advanced by one step, and then disappeared.

Yahiko could hear his heartbeat throb in his ears as goose bumps filled his skin. 'This is it. This time, it's the real deal.'

His face paled in shock and panic as the zigzagging gushes from before surrounded him in a multidirectional attack. 'Oh my God, is this Psycho-Kid's true speed? He's so fast that he can come at you from all angles at once!'

The Tokyo Samurai Descendant was now in a fix. His former advantage... being positioned at a dead end as a way to limit Soujiro's mobility... was now his disadvantage as he just stood there, trapped and cornered, unable to defend against the older boy's furious advance. Even the cover of darkness was not enough to protect Yahiko now.

'Man, three times in a row, I was able to get him, but I'm still not sure how I did it. It was as if I only relied on instinct. Was it the supposed 'eyes of the heart' that helped me do it?'

The Acting Master of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu struggled hard to catch his breath as panic and alarm besieged him. 'Jeez, my heart is pounding so hard that I can hear it in my ears.'

For Yahiko, that was an intimately familiar state whenever he faced Soujiro's Shukuchi. A pulsating heart and a shortness of breath; it was as though he needed the jolt of adrenaline every time he confronted the former Ten Ken's pure speed.

Was he really that scared of it? Perhaps he wasn't truly over the phobia he experienced just a while ago. Would the fear consume him? It was overpowering. It was suffocating. It was breaking him down steadily. It was a coldness that threatened to paralyze him altogether. He remembered Kyoko, her voice trembling and her stance wavering as she struggled to face Soujiro when he couldn't. Yahiko narrowed his eyes. 'If Kyoko can face her fear, so can I.'

"Use your own weakness to your advantage. Make it your strength. That's one of the tenets of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu," Kaoru had orated to him. It was a generic saying he heard from her thousands of times before. 'Easy for her to say,' Yahiko dismissed.

The gnawing fear inside him was a cold fire that threatened to burn and consume him utterly, yet at the same time, it was his greatest source of strength that helped him survive the duel so far. It was the dual extreme he needed in a contest where he couldn't win through his skill alone.

He was so terrified in battle that the pace of his breath and the beat of his heart seemed to move in cadence with Soujiro's own quick and fleeting footwork.

'No way. Could it be?' Yahiko pondered. 'No, it's too silly. But is it possible to...? Not that I have any other options. Besides, I can't setup any sort of elaborate technique in this awkward position. I'll just have to rely on that experimental strike I've been working on and this so-called instinct of mine.'

Yahiko firmly drew his sakabatou back until it nearly touched his spine. He closed his eyes once again as he walked towards Soujiro's charge, his only certainty his doubt.

"What the hell, here I go."

He struck as hard as he could with the sakabatou, putting his trust on an ambiguous gamble.

'Oh no! This is...!' His eyes bugged out. 'Is this what he meant by...?' "You seem very fond of Himura-san's Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. However, you do not have a monopoly on his techniques," Yahiko remembered Soujiro say, finally understanding the true meaning behind the unsaid threat.

* * *

Soujiro was enjoying himself immensely. True, though Yahiko was giving their battle everything he had, it was just a matter of time before he ran out of tricks. The former Ten Ken had seen it all before. It was tragic, really.

But still, it didn't hurt for him to enjoy the fight in the meantime, did it? Though if they ever did come to the point where Yahiko wouldn't be able to fight back at all... 'Oh well.'

There was a time when Soujiro would have been slightly upset at the younger man. There was a bygone period where he would not have held back at all. He would have killed the boy then and there. It was painfully obvious that Yahiko was outmatched, and the weak deserved to die. That was his philosophy.

Then again, that _was_ his... no, _Shishio's_ belief. As it was now, he wasn't very keen on any particular idealistic view. Nonetheless, it did endlessly fascinate him how Yahiko could still keep on fighting even when faced with impossible odds.

Was it courage or stupidity? Soujiro was not sure. Even so, he was undoubtedly intrigued.

'Let's up the ante a bit, Yahiko-san,' Soujiro drawled to himself as he at last prepared to strike. 'Perhaps not even the one step before the Shukuchi is enough for you. How about this?'

Soujiro harkened back to a move that Kenshin Himura had used on him when they had battled. He had dodged it, but he seriously doubted Yahiko could... especially with the help of his Shukuchi.

He had not practiced it much, though he had tried it on a few unarmed shrubs, a couple of trees, and the occasional thug or two. Besides, he wanted to see its effectiveness in actual combat. 'You're not the only one who could learn a technique by merely watching it, Yahiko-san.'

"Kuzu Ryu Sen."

Soujiro's eyes twinkled in surprise and astonishment.

* * *

'Damn, Soujiro's going to execute a multi-hit attack? No good. I'm completely defenseless! I won't be able to counterattack!' Yahiko reflected in panic. His body twitched. 'Oh no! This is...! Is this what he meant by...?'

"Kuzu Ryu Sen," Soujiro plainly announced as he became visible for a mere split-second before his arms blurred as he executed the deadly Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu technique.

Yahiko couldn't believe his ears. 'He can... He can use _that_ move? What kind of guy is he?'

Soujiro's limbs seemingly turned into tentacles armed with nine sharp blades. He sliced through Yahiko so speedily and effectively that not one drop of blood was spilled during the instant that he did his offensive. Nearly all his phantom appendages felt the tensile sensation of metal cutting through soft flesh as he flew into the darkness.

Needless to say, though not all of the nine strikes of Soujiro's Kuzu Ryu Sen struck home, it was still undoubtedly a painful altercation.

Yahiko's samurai blood was sprayed all over the landscape a moment later.

Yahiko had never felt pain like this before. He begged to the heavens, to whomever disembodied god or deity was out there, to stop his mindless, unceasing, and indescribable suffering. Even to the point of being mercy killed. "Somebody, please help me," he pleaded to no one in particular as his bodily functions started to shut down one after the other.

'It's over,' concluded Soujiro as he quickly rolled to the side. His eyes subsequently dilated in mild surprise, almost completely mimicking Yahiko's shocked face just a while ago excluding the older boy's ever-present grin. 'What is this?'

'Dammit! Shit!' Yahiko cursed desperately as he nearly succumbed to the peaceful darkness. 'Even after all that had happened, it... still... came... to... this?'

From there, an all-encompassing blackness wrapped itself around Yahiko's wavering consciousness.

* * *

'Oh no. It looks bad for Yahiko-san!' Kyoko assessed grimly after she witnessed the awesome might of Soujiro's Kuzu Ryu Sen firsthand. 'Soujiro-kun is just too fast and powerful for him. Did he even have a chance from the start?'

Soujiro easily spun away from Yahiko's position as a crimson spray exploded from the various lacerations on the younger man's body.

Kyoko reflexively winced as she heard Yahiko's maniacal scream of pain and frustration. She could almost feel the teenage boy's agony because of the piteousness of his shriek. She looked at her ever-smiling friend in utter puzzlement. 'Why? Why must you do this, Soujiro-kun? Are you even enjoying this? Why must you bully Yahiko-san?'

Kyoko got a good look at Soujiro's weapon. The blade was mostly clean, even after its sordid task. It just went to show how much of a skilled swordsman Soujiro was, being able to swing his sword so fast that not even the blood of his slaughtered enemies could stain it.

'Soujiro-kun's onslaught was so ferocious that his sword is actually vibrating!' Kyoko noticed something amiss. 'Wait a second. Why is it...?'

Soujiro's crouching apparition disappeared a moment later.

* * *

Yahiko's limbs felt like lead. It was as if every inch of his body was aflame. He screamed hysterically as vague concepts and notions emerged from the depths of his mind. 'The Kuzu Ryu Sen is painful enough when executed with the sakabatou, but when used with a real sword, it becomes downright lethal. Psycho-Kid is too powerful for me to handle. I should've run away when I had the chance.'

The soothing, tempting darkness covertly overwhelmed the exhausted boy. 'I... just want to sleep now. Too tired. Need rest... so that... pain will go away.'

As Yahiko bent down, he saw for an instant a dirty red string tied to his sandals. 'Eh? Why would I tie a red string to a good pair of sandals? Weird.'

Sleep again teased him as his exhaustion pushed him further into unconsciousness. But something stopped him short of regressing into oblivion altogether.

'Remember...'

"Do your best, Yahiko-kun! You can do it!" a feminine voice in his mind earnestly cheered.

'Tsubame?'

The last vestiges of slumber and exhaustion disappeared from his person then and there. 'No. I still have to fight. Not yet. It's not yet over!'

He felt a swift presence, like a stiff breeze of some sort, brush up against him. A fraction of a second later, he felt the cold bite of steel on the surface of his neck.

Perhaps he had his realization a bit too late?

* * *

'Split-second speed; the multidirectional attack wasn't his true speed, _this_ is! He came before the droplets of my blood had fallen on the ground; before I could open my eyelids after closing them in a reflexive blink; before my life could pass before my eyes; before this thought even started. Am I already dead? God, I can't breathe...'

Yahiko's vision, as well as the haze in his mind, eventually cleared a moment later. He noticed that he'd already swung his sakabatou a second earlier. He could still feel tiny vibrations emanating from his blunted blade.

'No. It couldn't be. These thoughts came after the spray of my blood had fallen and my blinking eyelids had opened. Moreover, my life didn't pass before my eyes. In fact, other than these thoughts, my mind is a total blank.'

Right in front of the Tokyo Samurai was Soujiro, still smiling his enigmatic smile. From the position he was in, it would seem that he too had just executed his attack. But whether or not he was actually successful with his assault, Yahiko couldn't tell.

The sixteen year old felt his neck. It was warm with his blood. Was the cut fatal? Was he to die minutes later? He got a good look at Soujiro's sword... Soujiro's broken sword. 'Oh my God. The top half of that sword! It's missing. Did I...?'

The heavily wounded young man flung his head wildly over Kyoko's direction. He spotted the other half of the broken katana embedded deep into one of the bamboo stalks.

Yahiko's mind raced as several questions began to form in his head. 'What happened? Did I do this? Did I... win?'

Yahiko certainly didn't feel like he'd won because of the various wounds covering his whole body. 'Humph. I haven't even laid a single sword strike on Psycho-Kid himself.'

His eyes alighted on Soujiro's weapon again. 'But what can he do with a broken katana? Hopefully, not much.'

The teenage samurai struggled hard with his breath, warily looking at the perfectly motionless Soujiro as one more realization entered his mind. 'Is it over? Is the fight really over?'

* * *

Soujiro blinked in wonder. 'I didn't expect that,' he admitted to himself. 'Oh well. I guess I'll just have to do this.' He started to calmly sheathe his sword.

An overwhelming sense of relief flooded Yahiko's whole body, but he still kept his guard up just in case. 'He's sheathing his sword! Is he finally giving up?'

Soujiro coolly shifted into battoujutsu stance.

'Shit, he knows battoujutsu too? He's not human!' Yahiko deduced in aggravation. 'Even though his sword is broken, most of it is still intact. If he gets close enough to me, he can still do a battoujutsu strike with little trouble!'

"I admit that I'm impressed. You've forced me to use the one technique that I can call my own... the only technique that I named. This is the Shun Ten Satsu. Prepare yourself."

'Giving up? The _hell_ he is!' Yahiko reckoned as he shifted into his own ready stance. 'Can I take him on in _this_ condition? With his natural speed multiplied tenfold with the speed of his battoujutsu?'

To Soujiro, he retorted, "Instant Heaven Murder? What a puffed-up name for a technique. Let's see if it's really all that."

'This is it; the final exchange!' Kyoko realized as she looked at the two combatants in worry. 'Does it really have to end like this?'

Soujiro unexpectedly relaxed his guard.

Yahiko was taken aback by the gesture. Was it some sort of ruse? 'Are you going to get all sneaky-like on me again?'

Soujiro excused himself, saying, "Hmmm. For a while. Pardon me," as he checked the open flap of his kimono.

Yahiko almost facefaulted then and there. "What the hell? Could you get on with that Shun Ten Satsu crap already?"

Soujiro merely ignored Yahiko as he fiddled with the inside of his clothing some more.

"..." Yahiko rejoined as Kyoko gasped.

'What's going on, Soujiro-kun?' the seventeen-year-old girl queried, perplexed.

"Ah, here it is," Soujiro celebrated as he finally found what he was looking for: a pocket watch of western design. Checking the time, he sighed in disappointment. "Just as I've thought. I'm late. My, how time flies when you're enjoying yourself."

He turned towards Yahiko and politely bowed. "I'm really sorry, but it looks like this battle is over, Yahiko-san. I'd love to continue our duel, but I do have another appointment to keep. I hope you do understand."

Yahiko let out a bunch of dirty expletives upon hearing Soujiro's statement. That done, he remarked, "If you think for a second that I'll let you get away with murder..."

"I wasn't the one who killed those men," Soujiro bluntly revealed.

"Don't play your mind games on me again, Psycho-Kid! We saw you cleaning your blade, and..." Yahiko trailed off somewhat once he realized some important inconsistencies in his reasoning. 'Okay, so a swordsman cleaning his blade at the scene of a crime isn't enough to label him a murderer. But if it wasn't him, then I don't know whether I should be ashamed or angry!'

"It does kind of make sense, what Soujiro-kun is saying," Kyoko chimed in, blushing a bit in embarrassment. "We might have been rather presumptuous."

"HA! Yeah, right! If it wasn't Psycho-Kid, then why did he attack us in the first place, huh?" Yahiko rejoined smugly.

Soujiro shrugged. "You... amused me, Yahiko-san. Also, I _was_ a bit slacking in my swordsmanship."

Yahiko facefaulted then and there. 'I was used for _practice_? Let me at that Psycho-Kid!'

"Again, I must say it was a superb fight, but I'm afraid that you were both mistaken with your presumptions," Soujiro continued. "When I got here, most of those men were already dead. I'm afraid you attacked the wrong person."

"Well, if it wasn't you, then who...?" Yahiko felt a cold shiver up his spine as he remembered what Keisuke, the leader of the now-defunct "Battousai Group", stated.

"Red hair... Cross-shaped scar... Please, get him away from... m-me! Help me!" Keisuke had beseeched before he was put out of his misery.

"That's impossible. It couldn't be Kenshin! It couldn't be Battousai!" Yahiko exclaimed in disbelief.

"Of course it wasn't Himura-san," Soujiro concurred. He considered leaving it at that because he didn't want Yahiko or Kyoko to be involved in any of this "Battousai" business. However, he felt obliged to explain everything to them after getting such a splendid duel from the boy.

"I was assigned by my employer to monitor the activities of a person claiming to be the Hitokiri Battousai. Apparently, Battousai-san didn't appreciate having common hoodlums as his alleged namesakes, so he eliminated them all. Pity I didn't make it in time. Well, I guess that's that. Good-bye."

"Hey! That's it? You can't just...!"

"Wait a minute."

Soujiro stopped mid-way from executing his "sprint beyond all sprints". Kyoko was the one who beckoned him. He turned his head towards his dearest friend in askance.

"Keisuke-san was the only one who survived the Battousai's massacre," she mentioned, not able to look Soujiro in the eye. "Were you the one who finished him off?" It was more of a statement than a question.

'Keisuke's the guy who attempted to rape Kyoko. Did Psycho-Kid know about this?' Yahiko pondered.

Soujiro's smiling expression was completely unreadable. "Like I said before, I'm not clean enough for redemption. Contrary to what your mother believes, I am no angel."

"Soujiro-kun, I..."

"Till we meet again."

The former Ten Ken waved farewell as he disappeared into the night.

Yahiko growled. "COME BACK HERE AND FIGHT, PSYCHO-KID! We ain't through yet!" he howled, shaking his fist in anger.

"C'mon, Yahiko-san! Stop calling Soujiro-kun that. It's not very..." Kyoko complained, but stopped herself short after she realized that Yahiko had already collapsed to the ground.

"YAHIKO-SAN!"

* * *

One realization seemed to recur in Soujiro's mind as he traveled through his otherworldly Shukuchi. 'Yahiko-san. Himura-san's prodigy. Hmmm. Very interesting indeed.' He chuckled. 'I found his last two techniques very intriguing.'

His mind journeyed back to the climax of his fight with the Tokyo Samurai Descendant. 'The technique that broke my sword was interesting enough, even though it seemed that he did it more out of desperation than anything else. From what I have seen, it was more of an experimental strike rather than a polished technique passed down from generation to generation.'

Step-by-step, he reviewed the execution of Yahiko's last reckless move. 'At first glance, the overhead slash seemed like it was one powerful strike, but in actuality...'

Soujiro stopped at mid-thought as he put his concentration back into his furious sprint, hopping and weaving through the many obstacles in his way. Soon, he would be going through an open plain. He could relax and brood there.

After reaching the aforementioned location, the twenty-something swordsman resumed his musings. 'That technique was simply three consecutive strikes on the same spot of my sword. It relied mostly on the recoil of the first strike and unerring pinpoint accuracy. He must really have been desperate, knowing that after the first strike, he won't have another chance to strike again.'

He easily passed the featureless land in six seconds flat. The main road was already nearby. He was making good time with his current speed. 'What really caught my eye was the strike that he used during my Kuzu Ryu Sen.'

Soujiro's ubiquitous smile grew wider in reminiscence. 'The strike that was able to make my sword vibrate furiously was the same strike that broke my hand guard a while back.'

He chortled. 'It was even able to chip a large portion out of my sword's blade... the very same chip where Yahiko-san used his three-hit technique.'

The young man had reached the main road by this time, his employer's mansion already in sight. 'Myojin Yahiko. What an interesting fellow indeed. I wonder if he even realizes the power of that sword strike of his? Oh well. One thing's for sure, Yahiko-san is almost as interesting a character as the one currently claiming Himura-san's infamous name.'

"The Hitokiri Battousai," Soujiro whispered to himself as he at last arrived at his destination.

* * *

"Hey," a silhouette of a man casually greeted his quickly approaching cohort. The long-haired fellow stayed motionless within the shadows of a crude, rundown shack despite feeling rather uncomfortable hiding there like a rat. "How was last night's hunt?"

"Please don't start," the younger companion warned in monotone as he approached the older man's makeshift hut. "You've entrusted me with this mission, so I implore you to respect my decision."

"Very well; as you wish. But really, you should have let those thugs be. What if Akahori's men found out about you? That would seriously ruin our timetable, y'know."

"I could have killed them all."

"And what of the prodigy?"

"That fight I might actually enjoy. There's no reason to fear. Akahori will die."

"But killing all those worthless scum for the sake of a name? How very petty, Battousai-dono."

The young assassin at last revealed himself as the sun rose. He was what appeared to be a youthful man of fifteen years of age, sporting the most basic apparel for a hitokiri of the bygone era: the daisho, the usual katana-wakizashi combination. His fire-red hair flowed gently in the morning breeze as he lightly fingered his blood-encrusted outfit. The cross-shaped scar over his left eye was very noticeable in the light of morn.

"It makes me sick how they use the name 'Battousai' so proudly," the person identified as "Battousai" stated, a sleepy-eyed expression on his face.

"That's hypocritical, since you make use of the very same name," the older man conjectured calmly as he regarded the Battousai doppelganger cautiously, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Not proudly," the younger man corrected as he made his way past his elder companion in a huff. "Never proudly."

* * *

Yahiko opened his eyes as he winced at the approach of sunlight. "It's morning already? What happened?"

"It's good that you're awake," Kyoko quietly mumbled as she lugged Yahiko on her back. "You're starting to get heavy."

Yahiko hastily stood up as soon as he realized the precarious position he and the older girl were in. He winced in agony as he felt his pain return. He plopped down the ground in anguish. 'Dammit! This time, I really _am_ beaten up.'

"You shouldn't be moving so much. You're hurt badly. Come on, I'll help you up," Kyoko fussed primly as she took Yahiko's arm over hers.

"T-Thanks," Yahiko sputtered, a faint blush on his cheeks. He could only guess what Tsubame would have thought if she saw him now.

* * *

Kenshin Kamiya (nee Himura) and family's jaws metaphorically dropped on the floor as Tsubame unconsciously tore a page of Yahiko's letter apart with her bare hands, the Akabeko waitress not even completely aware of it.

Tsubame blinked after she noticed the two torn halves of paper. "I-I'm so sorry!"

"C'mon! I wanna know what happened to big bwotha!" Kenji cried, pouting as he crossed his arms. "Did he meet with the smiley man again?"

"I-I think it's still okay," Kaoru surveyed as she put the two torn pieces of paper together. "There we go. No harm done, Kenji! Now, where were we? Oh yeah, the part where the girl Kyoko and Yahiko went back to the village together."

The sound of ceramics crashing on the floor was heard, followed by profuse apologies.

'That is, it's going to be okay as soon as Tsubame gets past that sentence,' Kaoru appended as she eyed the sixteen year old warily.

"What happened afterwards, honey?" Kenshin asked eagerly.

"So you really want to know what happened to the boy, Seta Soujiro?"

"Yes. I admit that I am intrigued," Kenshin confessed.

"I'm more worried about what happened to Yahiko," Kaoru countered, grimacing. "That Soujiro boy gave him such a hard time. Was he really that good a swordsman?"

"Soujiro was able to slash me from behind when we fought against each other in Shishio's stronghold," Kenshin revealed. "He even destroyed my original sakabatou with his self-taught battoujutsu skill. Believe me when I say the boy... although disturbed and damaged by trauma beyond our imagination... is good." He grinned at his wife serenely.

As Kaoru gave Kenshin a cross and worried look, the ex-wanderer reassured, "I'm sure Yahiko's fine. After all, he was able to write and send this letter to us. Although he openly admitted that he wasn't sure how he survived the fight, what's important is that he did survive."

"I guess." Kaoru relaxed a bit. She beamed inwardly, pride apparent in her eyes. She afterwards huffed, stating, "Humph. And here I thought he was going to brag about his oh-so-great Revisal Techniques again. But he's still so full of himself to write such a detailed account of his experiences."

"For Yahiko to write about it word-for-word, I'd bet it was probably an important event to him," Kenshin theorized, amused.

"Kenshin, you said that this Seta Soujiro is a good swordsman. We're fairly sure Yahiko survived this attack. Do you really believe that he was actually able to best Soujiro, knowing that he's outmatched?"

"I have no doubt that he fought with all his strength," Kenshin answered as he nodded affirmatively, adding, "and that he'll never break his promises. Not one of them."

* * *

Yahiko eventually noticed that all of his wounds were already dressed. Kyoko probably found some bandages in the massacred hoodlums' camp. That was already more than enough help for him.

"Look, you really don't have to do this. Give me a minute and I can get back to the village on my own."

Kyoko shook her head as she gingerly made her way out of the woods. "I insist, Yahiko-san."

"But...!"

"It's the least I can do."

Yahiko was taken aback by that.

It was Kyoko's turn to blush. "Thank you for fighting Soujiro-kun for me even though it was, in retrospect, largely unwarranted. He simply didn't want us to get involved, which was probably why he didn't say anything before."

Yahiko bit his lip in remembrance. "Yeah. Stupid Psycho-Kid, using me like that for sword practice."

Kyoko smiled wanly upon hearing Yahiko's remark. Afterwards, she let loose and giggled daintily.

Yahiko's face reddened deeply, this time for a different reason altogether. "Hey!"

"Sorry." Kyoko expressed her regret in an unregretful manner as she tittered some more.

Yahiko harrumphed, looking away.

"But I do appreciate it... what you and Soujiro-kun both did. I'm glad that I didn't have to use my grampa's Fuyutsuki back there in the East Valley. Thank you also for what you said earlier. Nobody has ever called me 'brave' before."

Yahiko scratched the back of his head embarrassedly. "Well, that's because... you were." He then coughed once as he attempted to change the subject. "But don't be so thankful for Psycho-Kid's 'help'. I don't trust him. He probably knows more about this Battousai business than he's letting on."

"My, my; what a nice mood you two are in. Aren't we as pretty as a picture?"

Both Yahiko and Kyoko jumped back in surprise after they were greeted by a half-happy, half-irritated Chizuru Raikouji. They were finally back in the village, it seemed.

Upon further realization of their present posture, the pair quickly departed from each other's personal space.

"The prodigal daughter has returned. Welcome back!" Chizuru "cheerfully" greeted Kyoko as she twisted the younger girl's left ear. "Now go back to your mother so that she can cook up the proper punishment for you, young lady."

"Excuse me," the kowtowed Kyoko muttered as she hastily made her way back to her mother's soba shop.

Yahiko stared at the scene through half-lidded, cynical eyes. 'Chizuru is becoming more and more like the old hag as the hours pass by.'

"And as for you..." Chizuru snarled as she glared at Yahiko.

"W-What?" the sixteen year old stammered defensively, wincing as he expected the worst.

He was soon overwhelmed by a warm embrace.

"Eh?"

He also heard a bit of sniffling from Chizuru.

"Hey! You're not crying, are you? We just met yesterday! Don't tell me you were actually worried about a stranger! I'm sorry, okay? Stop crying!"

He felt Chizuru's embrace tighten as he heard a multitude of invectives from her, some of which he had just heard for the first time.

"'Cry,' my ass! I caught a cold after waiting for you two lovebirds to come back! I barely slept a wink! Sakaguchi-san was so worried! And here you were with Kyoko, cavorting around the East Valley like newlyweds!"

"Hey, lady! You got it all wrong! Didn't you notice the bandages? I was hurt trying to rescue Kyoko! And I didn't cavort with nobody!"

"Saving Kyoko-chan does not give you the excuse to be _that_ familiar with..." Chizuru trailed off as she immediately jumped to conclusions. "Did something happen between the two of you? Did you get her pregnant? TELL ME THE TRUTH!" Her death grip on Yahiko further tightened as she held onto him like a boa constrictor.

Yahiko had only once felt pain like this before. He begged to the heavens, to whomever disembodied god or deity was out there, to stop his mindless, unceasing, and indescribable suffering. Even to the point of being mercy killed. "Somebody, please help me," he pleaded to no one in particular as his bodily functions started to shut down one after the other.

"Help meee..." Yahiko whimpered one last time before the silken bleakness again draped itself over his consciousness.

* * *

_Three weeks later, inside the Sakaguchi abode..._

"'I'm going. Chizuru, stay here,' you said. 'Later. I won't be long,' you said. Even though it took you the entire freakin' night to come back! A samurai's word is his bond. HA! Bullshit. Now look at you. You got the crap beaten out of you. This is exactly what happens to li'l braggarts like yourself! Now that's what I call KARMA! Why, I never..."

'Kami-sama, oh Kami-sama, please make her stop,' Yahiko implored anxiously as he silently suffered under Chizuru's constant badgering. Sure, he could retaliate... he did have a way with words... but now was not the time. After all, the irate woman was dressing his wounds. There was no point to bite the hand that gauzes you, or something like that. 'I thought I finally got away from the old hag when I left Tokyo, only to find a replacement Kaoru here in Shinshu. Oh joy.'

Yahiko unexpectedly felt a sharp pain on his ear as Chizuru callously pinched and twisted it. "And listen when somebody is talking to you!"

"..." Yahiko detailed, feeling as if he were replaying some sort of familiar event.

Chizuru gave Yahiko a bewildered look. "Is there something on my face?"

Yahiko just... stared at Chizuru, a combination of nostalgia, deja vu, and terror brimming inside him. 'Dammit, they must have been twins separated since birth! There's no other explanation!'

"Chizuru-san? Once you're done dressing Mister Swordsman's wounds, would you come down here for a moment? We need your help here." It was Nonoko Sakaguchi's voice.

"I'm coming!" Chizuru called out before she packed the extra bandages away.

"Busy day at the soba shop?" Yahiko inquired casually. The whole setup kind of reminded him of the old hustle and bustle he went through in the Akabeko. He kind of longed for it, strangely enough. 'Tsk. Barely a month away from Tokyo and I'm missing the place already.'

"You could say that. There are lots of people from all sorts of places coming to the shop. Even though Shinshu's now connected with the rest of civilization, I doubt that it has anything to do with the sudden flood of people today," the twenty-something woman observed ponderously.

"It's because of the announced assassination attempt, isn't it?"

Chizuru nodded in affirmation. "Word spreads fast. I heard from some rumors that the politician whose neck is on the line has offered a hefty reward to anyone who could protect him from this other Battousai."

Yahiko snorted derisively. 'Seems like politicians nowadays think exactly like Tani,' he supposed. To Chizuru, he resumed, "So that explains why there are suddenly a lot of people in this out-of-the-way little village in Shinshu."

"Probably. I don't know for sure," Chizuru replied as she helplessly shrugged. "All I know is that it's weird for Sakaguchi-san's shop to still be this busy. I mean, it's already way past lunchtime. Now's supposed to be the slow hours."

"CHIZURU-SAN! A LITTLE HELP, PLEASE!" Nonoko yelled loudly in a pleading yet insistent manner.

"Yes, yes. Coming, Sakaguchi-san! Coming!" Chizuru avowed. "Oh well. Duty calls. I'll just have to continue this little chitchat of ours later, boy."

"Sure, whatever," Yahiko softly answered as Chizuru went to her assumed destination.

The young lad was now alone with his thoughts.

* * *

The clattering of plates and the buzz of a large crowd drowned out most of all the other sounds inside the restaurant.

"WHAT? But that's impossible! _He's _still here?" Chizuru queried.

Well, most of the other sounds, anyway.

"Yes, it's possible, Chizuru-san," Nonoko beatifically acknowledged.

There was loud, bellowing laughter in the background followed by the deafening groan of defeat from the crowd that had gathered.

"Well, has he paid for it all? All that food he ate; he's eating you out of house and home!" Chizuru demanded, incensed.

A sheepish whine was heard amidst the ruckus.

"Well, he seems very confident that he could. So far, he has gained a lot of winnings from his little bets. As long as he keeps on eating, I'm sure he could pay."

"..."

"Is something the matter, dear?"

"You're too nice for your own good, Sakaguchi-san." 'Like mother, like daughter, I guess.'

"Mom! More soba! He wants more soba!" intoned a girlish, panicked voice.

"Coming, Kyoko!" The Sakaguchi matriarch turned towards Chizuru, stating, "Let's just keep on cooking, dear. I'm sure the strange, large man's little stunts will pay off big time in the long run."

"Eh? Why don't we just quit while we're still ahead, Sakaguchi-san? My elbow's killing me from all this damn stirring!"

The only response Chizuru got was a loud and long belch.

* * *

Yahiko squinted his eyes in remembrance as he struggled to piece together the information he had gathered so far.

"What are they saying about Battousai?" the young lad had asked during his first meeting with Chizuru.

"Oh, horrible things! Unfounded rumors and lies!" Chizuru had answered. "Like how he'd finally turned up now after years of anonymity, his plans to oust the Meiji Government because his theories of isolationism conflicted with their beliefs, him being evil... that sort of stuff."

'Huh. There are parts of the rumors that are true, but the other parts... Isolationism? What the hell?' Yahiko considered.

Chizuru resumed, "I've even heard that Battousai is already here, planning an _announced_ assassination attempt on one of the premiere members of the Daijokan."

'One of the premiere members of the Daijokan; what Chizuru had revealed backs up Psycho-Kid's own statements.'

"I was assigned by my employer to monitor the activities of a person claiming to be the Hitokiri Battousai," Soujiro had divulged.

'I think it's pretty safe to assume that Psycho-Kid's 'employer' is somehow connected to that politician. It's all starting to make sense now, but what about that guy, Keisuke, and the stuff that he said?'

"Red hair... Cross-shaped scar... Please, get him away from... m-me! Help me!" the near-dead Keisuke pleaded, evidently trembling in extreme terror.

'I'm still not sure what to make out of that. However, I'd hate it if Kenshin were to be framed by this new 'Hitokiri Battousai' bastard. I have to meet him for myself. It's going to be me and him, face-to-face.'

A voluminous burp from outside ruined Yahiko's deep meditation.

'It seems like Sakaguchi-san's customers are really enjoying her soba,' Yahiko surmised as he licked his lips absently. 'Damn, I've been out like a light since morning that I've missed both breakfast and lunch! Maybe if I ask Chizuru nicely enough, she'll lend me enough money to buy a bowl or two. I'm starving.'

Soon, hunger got the better of Yahiko as he carefully moved out of his borrowed futon and into the restaurant.

* * *

"I AM THE SOBA KING! GUWAHAHAHAHAHA!" came the boisterous holler of a large, robust man wearing an off-white outfit and bandanna. His bulging muscles and pectorals were made much more obvious by the fact that he wore no shirt underneath his open vest. Unfortunately, girth replaced muscle on his stomach area as he finished off the remnants of his latest meal.

'Truly, I have mastered the art of soba eating. But even these sumptuous noodles cannot compare to the delicacy that is the meat bun!' the robust man ruminated, nodding sagely. He turned towards the crowd with a flourish, stating, "C'MON! I dare _anyone_ to come and out-eat me in the next round!"

Silent, collective head shaking was the only response the brawny man got. He sighed in mock defeat. 'Ah. Finally, they got it into their thick skulls that they're no match against me. Good. I was getting real sick and tired of eating all these soupy noodles. Also, my stomach is already grumbling funny. Damn, I wish I went to a meat bun place instead of a soba restaurant. Oh well, time to collect my earnings, and...'

Swiftly, everybody went quiet as they all heard the shuffling of footsteps and the clattering of ceramics.

"H-Here you go, Yahiko-san," Kyoko timidly declared as she put down Yahiko's order on his table, a stark contrast to her moodier self three weeks ago. "Enjoy."

"Thanks, Kyoko."

Yahiko calmly sat on the table next to the "Soba King", his bowl of steaming hot soba ready for his hearty consumption. He parted his chopsticks and let out a loud, "Thanks for the food!" as he devoured his meal with the zeal of a hungry monk.

The well-built man felt it again; the "itch". The barely controllable itch he got on his hands whenever the prospect of "easy money" was at his grasp.

Yahiko looked up as the sizeable stranger coughed for his attention. The large man dramatically gasped, saying, "What's that you've just mumbled? Did I hear you correctly? You wish to challenge the Great Gan?"

Chizuru could only roll her eyes in disgust as she heard Gan's usual byline. "Great. Here he goes again. It looks like he found another prospective..." She blinked. "Hey, wait a minute. Isn't that...?"

The bandaged boy could only ogle in confusion as he looked at the bizarre, hoodlum-like man in askance. "Whuwuzzat?" he inquired through a mouthful of noodles.

The man who had identified himself as "The Great Gan" gasped again as he pointed at Yahiko and "whispered" to the crowd in a not-so-subtle manner, "He said, 'Bring it on, butthead!' What arrogance!"

"I said no such thing!" Yahiko exclaimed, feeling as though he were getting swindled somehow.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next:** Gan the White Tiger.

_Got to love that Soujiro, eh? Deux ex Soujiro, he is. To give you an idea of how I'm going to use him in this storyline (if it isn't obvious enough), it's like this: It's like how Inoue-sensei would use Rukawa of Slam Dunk fame or how Capcom would use Gouki of Street Fighter fame. Got it? Good._

_There's a lot less Kamiya family interaction in the last chapter. Hopefully, once the mood of the story goes back to a more cheerful tone, they'll return._

**Ja ne!_  
_**Abdiel


	6. Chapter 6

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

_Man, it's about time this chapter got released._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Enter the Tiger**

* * *

Gan gave Yahiko a livid look before exploding in boisterous laughter. "You jest, punk. Go home."

Whispers and jeers soon followed.

"Yeah, go home, punk!"

"You should go back to your futon and rest, instead of straining yourself unnecessarily, young man!"

"GO HOME!"

Yahiko wasn't quite sure what to make of what was happening. However, he still looked irately at the gathered crowd with half-lidded, skeptical eyes.

'Great. Figures. Here they go again. The whole Battousai incident just happened three weeks back, and they already forgot about it. What a bunch of ingrates.' To Gan, he remarked, "Look, Mister... Gang or whoever, I don't..."

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY? What did you mean by 'Afraid you'll lose because you can't take another serving, lard butt?' WHO ARE YOU CALLING A LARD BUTT? This means war! Waitress! Another serving for me and this upstart!"

The crowd groaned as they moved away from the pair, unwilling to make any more bets, but the Great Gan had it all covered. "Make your wagers now, folks! It's going to be all or nothing this afternoon!"

The rowdy man pretended to grunt as he rubbed his abdomen. "I don't think I can eat another bite. What do you think?" Gan's stomach did groan in agony, much to his surprise, but he chose to ignore it amidst the wild cheers of his audience. After all, the Great Gan was about to make himself more money.

Sickening soba soup be damned, Gan _was_ still able to hook another prospective sucker into his scam, so what was there to lose? 'Just one more meat bun and I'm through! No. Soba. SO-BA. I meant soba, not meat bun.'

Yahiko dumbly sat at his stool as Kyoko subtly replaced his half-eaten food with a fresh and significantly larger bowl full of soba. "What the hell's going on?" was all he managed to say.

"You don't know what you're doing! He wiped out half of those 'patrons' of ours during the last hour! That guy's a monster!" Chizuru murmured as she put down Gan's bowl of noodles.

"I DIDN'T MAKE ANY BETS WITH HIM! He's lying! He started saying some crazy stuff and now I'm stuck with a stinking bet that I didn't make in the first place! And nobody's..."

The cheers of the crowd drowned out most of Yahiko's objections. "...Even listening to me." The boy sighed in resignation. 'Wonderful. Damn it all to hell.'

"LET THE CONTEST BEGIN!" Gan roared as he parted his chopsticks with fanfare usually reserved for Kabuki. "And now... LET'S EAT!"

* * *

A petite young man with an overly large eye patch covering most of his left face hummed a merry tune as he made his way through the unusually busy streets of Shinshu, a tray full of freshly steamed meat buns at hand. "The smell of fresh meat buns in the morning should be enough to soothe the troubled and terribly irate souls of Raedo-sempai and his men!"

"What the hell are you blabbering about, you moron? It's already three in the afternoon!" a passerby helpfully divulged.

The eye-patched man blinked innocently. "Really?"

A second passed, followed by a minute.

"Dear Kami-sama in heaven! I'm LATE!" the frail-looking man cried in utter despair as he ran as fast as he could towards his destination, clumsily trying to balance his tray of goodies. "Feet, don't fail me now! I hope sempai and the guys won't beat me up... much."

And so, the eye-patched man was off.

"Who was that weird guy?"

"Why didn't he just wrap all those meat buns up instead of putting them on a tray?"

* * *

'I feel like puking,' Yahiko mused to himself, struggling to take another bite out of the wound-up noodles on his chopsticks. He glanced over the Great Gan's direction. Sure enough, his opponent was nearly done with his bowl of soba. 'I can't eat another bite. Only the likes of Sano could finish off Sakaguchi-san's extra large special! Come to think of it, it is kind of strange for him to be as thin as he is.'

Yahiko took a look at his bowl. To his surprise, it was nearly empty. 'Oh man, I really was hungry, wasn't I? Maybe I could win this after all.' Another wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. It took nearly all of his high-level kenjutsu training on concentration techniques to quell his urge to gag and vomit. 'Or maybe not. Damn, I only have a few more bites to go!'

'My losing streak has finally ended!' Gan considered gleefully as he gorged upon the remaining soba in his bowl. 'After this, I can now collect my winnings and prove myself to be the man! No more begging on the streets or performing old folk songs for loose change! The Great Gan is no longer a loser like... What's that I see?'

A heavenly, eye-patched angel suddenly swooped down the soba shop entrance, carrying the tray of delights that the Great Gan so longed for: white, tender, and steaming-hot meat buns just _begging_ to be munched upon.

"SEMPAI! I'msosorryI'mlateIdidn'trealizethetimebut...! Wait, what's with the large crowd? Where'd Raedo-sempai and the others go? Uh, hello, mister...? Hey! Those aren't for you! What are you...? AHHHHH!"

The eye-patched man numbly held the tray of steaming pork buns at arm's length as the Great Gan charged. The burly man attacked the plate with deranged gusto, snatching the savory foodstuff and cramming them into his mouth in a frenzy of motion and sound. He savored the tasty, flavorsome treats, at times swallowing some of the meaty delights whole before relishing their sheer delectability as he chomped on them all at the same time. Their meaty, porky goodness melted in his mouth, caressing his taste buds like nothing else.

"WAH! I can't believe you ate each and every last meat bun on the tray! That wasn't very nice at all! Raedo-sempai isn't going to like this one bit!" the eye-patched man whined and whimpered pathetically.

'Hmmm. It somehow feels like I'm forgetting something important,' the nikuman fanatic pondered in the middle of his gluttony.

"Aaaaahhh..." came the contented sigh of a very satiated Yahiko. "I never thought I'd actually finish off one of Sakaguchi-san's extra large specials! I almost threw up on that last bite!"

A thunderous roar of approval and congratulations surrounded the young swordsman.

The Gawking Gan could only stare and gape, dumbstruck and ashen-faced at the heartbreaking scene before him.

"What an upset! I won back all the money I lost before!"

"Ha! I won that and a little extra!"

"Dammit, I thought the big guy was going to win."

"Tough luck, Wataru-kun."

"Heh. Hey, kid. You're all right. Here's your share of the winnings."

"Whoa. I won some money too? Gee, thanks! WOHOOO!" Yahiko cheered as he pocketed the amount given to him. "To think, for a while there, I thought I was going to go into debt!"

"WAIT A MINUTE!" Gan shouted in between mouthfuls. "Best two out of three! I can still lick this!"

"HA! You don't have any money left on you, you big galoot! You're the one that betted 'all or nothing'. What will we bet on next? Your pants?"

"You're on!" Gan agreed as he began undoing his slacks.

"You will do no such thing in front of my daughter!" Nonoko admonished, incensed, as she covered Kyoko's eyes.

The gathered multitude laughed jocularly as they started to make their leave.

"Hey, wait... You! Wataru-san, right? Don't you want to earn back all that money you lost?"

"No way! Uh-uh. I lost enough money as is."

"You're the one who blew it, now face the consequences."

"Aw! Come on, guys! Wait! Come back!"

But by then, most everyone in the crowd was already gone.

"..."

Gan heaved a dejected and miserable sigh. 'Not again. This always happens. Just when I think I've already won, this happens.'

"Well, no use crying over spilt milk," the over-muscled man consoled himself, immediately perking up from his brief moment of utter melancholy. "I'll just have to pick myself up and move on. Like I always do." He grinned carelessly. "Besides, I did get a free meal or two out of the whole betting thing, so I'm happy. I should get going."

Insistent coughing caught Gan's attention before he made his exit. "Uh, yeah? Miss...?"

"That's Miss 'friend-of-the-restaurant-owner-you-mooched-from' to you, bud. Now what's that I hear about a 'free meal or two'? Hmmm?"

"Ahehehehehe. Oh yeah." Gan sheepishly rubbed the back of his head before altogether waving good-bye, stating, "Sayonara!" and making a run for it.

"HEY! You can't just eat and run! YAHIKO!" Chizuru beckoned.

"Eh? What now, old hag? OW!"

"Don't you go calling me 'old hag', young man! Now shut up and go follow that big, dumb oaf! It's the least you could do for getting free lodging, food, and treatment from the Sakaguchis! Now GO!" Chizuru insisted as she relinquished her hold of Yahiko's ear and pushed him towards the direction the Galloping Gan went.

"What? You've got to be kidding me!"

Unnoticed by the rest, the eye-patched man piteously whimpered, "Sempai's meat buns... all gone..." over and over.

* * *

Yahiko woke up, quickly realizing he was sucking on a dead fish.

He spewed the vile thing out, resisted the urge to vomit, and looked up. A hundred pairs of eyes inquisitively stared back at him; soulless bat eyes that glinted crimson underneath the blanket of shadow before him.

Yahiko closed his eyes, calmed himself down, and carefully thought things through. What'd happened to him this time?

Well, for starters, he was feeling quite nauseated with dizziness, which was probably caused by the cramped, tight space his head was currently stuck in. The rest of his body was located on the other side of the rock wall he was jammed onto.

What else? Oh, his mouth was saturated with the taste of raw fish that _wasn't_ sushi or sashimi, and there were hordes of fanged, leathery monstrosities hanging above his head... a veritable arsenal of creepy Swords of Damocles glaring back at him.

However, knowing his oriental circumstances, Yahiko wouldn't know what a Sword of Damocles was even if it happened to cleave right through his scalp. But with one look at his reaction to the bat pack, it was a safe bet that he had a pretty good idea.

There was a lesson to be learned here: next time Chizuru bullied Yahiko into doing something he didn't want to get involved with in the first place, he would damn well tell her to stick her nose right up her...

Yahiko blinked as something else occurred to him. It just so happened that Chizuru's fool errand involved chasing after a certain man... a big, bulky, hairy, gluttonous, and thuggish type of man, to be exact.

"Gan?" he cautiously whispered. "Minoe? Anyone?" He paused, rolled his eyes, then tried again. "The 'Great' Gan? Soba King? The Round Mound of...?"

"Right here, Mister Yahiko," a voice murmured back.

"Gan?"

"Uh, no."

A pause. "The 'Great' Gan?" He struggled to move his head towards the sound of the other person's voice.

"I'm afraid not. It's Minoe. Minoe Munenori. Remember me?"

Ah, yes. It was the eye-patched, pirate-like, insane, and effeminate young man with the purplish getup and long front-and-side bangs. Minoe was stuck at another junction of the crevice or crag or whatever, just right beside Yahiko.

"Uh, yeah. Very good." Yahiko sighed forlornly and swallowed. "There are a lot of bats over us, huh?"

"Please don't remind me, Yahiko-chi," the eye-patched man implored as he involuntarily shivered his timbers.

Yahiko bit his lip. "They're _looking_ at us, Minoe."

"They sure are. Still, in the right light, I'd bet they'd look so cute!" Minoe enthused effeminately... no, scratch that... femininely. Gaily even, for Yahiko had never seen a happier man. "I mean, look at the expression of the third one to the left! From this distance, doesn't he look like a cuddly little fox?"

Yahiko looked at Minoe oddly, almost worriedly, then quietly edged away, or at least did the best he could to do so given his circumstances. "Do you mind, Minoe?" he hissed once the bats started to stir, even the third, "cuddly little fox" one to the left... _especially_ the third, "cuddly little fox" one to the left, ironically enough.

Minoe flushed. "Real sorry, sir. But they just are."

"Yeah. They're regular 'lost, upside-down little puppies', they are," Yahiko mumbled.

"Well, well, well; look at what we have here," another voice boomed from behind the Tokyo Samurai Descendant and his buccaneer-like companion. "It's Yoshi-boy and Patches, out to hunt me down. Well, I guess the tables have turned, eh?" The arrogant, boisterous voice couldn't possibly be mistaken for anyone else's.

The Garrulous Gan's unexpected arrival was _at least_ a good start in uncovering whatever mystery was behind Yahiko's predicament. And if not, this was a good point to make sense of it all, at the even lesser least. But at the least of the lesser least, it was more interesting at the moment than anything else.

How did everything come to this? How did events conspire against Yahiko in such a way that he'd be left in a rather compromising position? Who was this Minoe fellow and how did he meet him? Why was he acting so "chummy" with him in the first place, like he already knew him from the start? And what was with that ridiculous, oversized eye patch anyway?

Come to think of it, what about the "Great" Gan? Wasn't there supposed to be a chase going on, where Yahiko was the pursuer and Gan was the pursued? And for goodness' sake, what the hell was a fish doing in his mouth?

* * *

_Meanwhile, three months later, back in Tokyo..._

"Oops," Tsubame muttered as she put down the pieces of paper she was holding. "Wrong page."

Droplets of sweat trickled down on all the foreheads of everyone present in the Kamiya Dojo's living room.

Kaoru shook her head clear of the bizarre mental image that featured the Kamiya Kasshin School's Acting Master sucking on a fish and having an army of bats hanging over his head. It was easier said than done.

"Oro, you left off during the part where the bandanna-wearing tough guy ate-and-ran. My wife's long-lost sister then ordered Yahiko to run after him, and Yahiko begrudgingly obliged."

"Thanks, Kenshin-san!" Tsubame thanked as she scrambled for the pages she obviously skipped.

There was a brief pause, followed by a shinai whack.

"Very funny, dear. Long-lost sister _my foot_."

Kenji's snoopy, six-year-old head popped from behind Tsubame's shoulder like a blossoming pansy, quickly catching the older girl's attention. Both of them eyed each other suspiciously for a few seconds.

"I won't twouble you with anymo questions if you'll wead the west of big bwotha's lettas weal good," Kenji proposed.

"Deal," Tsubame beamed as she shook on the casual verbal agreement using hers and Kenji's pinky fingers.

With a soothing sigh that calmed her initial bewilderment, Tsubame gathered all of the pages of Yahiko's letter, put them in the correct, chronological order, picked up from where she left off, and started reading them again.

* * *

_Three months before, back in Shinshu..._

It had already begun. The circular black-and-white go pieces were at last arranged on a grid-like battlefield; or, if shogi were more to your taste, then the pentagonal shogi pieces were finally setup upon a checkered war zone. The meat buns had been steamed to perfection, the udon was ready for serving, the director was bracing himself to scream his lungs out, and the overacting Kabuki actors were all awaiting their respective musical cues.

The wind blew softly through the woods, making the leaves on the ground scatter in an assortment of reds, yellows, and oranges. There was also a delicate chill to the air; cold enough for a person to notice, but not so cold that he couldn't bear it. Autumn was starting to relinquish its hold on the weather, it seemed.

As the gust continued, it blew leaves onto a path that went through the forest. Though this trail was usually well-used, today it only held two people: a young man and a slightly older man.

The unlikely duo wore striking outfits that differentiated them from each other even from a great distance. The younger, bandaged one wore a white hakama and blue gi while sporting a wrapped-up bundle at the side of his cloth belt and a flat straw hat atop his head; the other wore an off-white bandanna that covered his entire scalp, a red top that proudly showed off his upper-body musculature but hid nothing of his abdomen's slight stoutness, and well-worn olive pants.

Both of their sandals looked frayed as well, but with good reason: they were presently chasing each other across the countryside in a rather frantic pace.

Yet another gust of wind caused the two men to quiver. By chance or pure coincidence, they stopped simultaneously and looked at each other and the ten-foot gap between them for a minute, seemingly checking their current progress. Afterwards, they wordlessly started running again, this time quicker than ever before.

And so the chase ensued. Gan and Yahiko traveled many miles within a mostly barren area while passing by the occasional rustic hut or two, kicking off a cloud of billowing dust that trailed after them like a filthy war banner of sorts.

When the Tokyo Samurai last visited the rural province... the hometown of one of his two star pupils, Outa Higadishisomething-or-the-other, y'know, Sanosuke Sagara's little brother and their hard-to-pronounce family name... Shinshu was still the definition of a backwater province: there were lots of trees, and shrubs, and dust, and rocks, and dirt roads, and shanties ad infinitum. He wished he could say more, but that was about it.

Now, despite appearances to the contrary, a lot of things could happen in six years. Why, Outa himself was once upon a time a shy, silent young brat who constantly hid underneath his sister's skirt for protection whenever trouble was afoot.

Lately, although the boy was still as shy, still as talkative, and still as influenced by an overprotective sister as ever before, at least he now had a nifty "Aku" sign at the back of his shirt like his older brother did, and he could kick the "Aku" out of anyone below a First Dan in Kendo. Certainly impressive for a thirteen-year-old boy who was as noisy as Kenji Himura was quiet.

In regards to Uki, Outa's sister, there was no way in hell Yahiko was going to meet up with that obsessive-compulsive, domineering, and mountain-peak-haired (think widow's peak, except it's in the shape of Mount Fuji) crazy girl even if she lived just a few kilometers away from Chizuru and Kyoko's quaint little village.

He'd rather have a lecturing care of Kaoru's long-lost twin sister or awkward moments of stillness with the sword-cane-toting girl than spend even just _one_ minute with the manic Hi... Hida... Higashidani (HA!) woman. Even Yahiko's patience had its limits. Speaking of stretching the limits of one's patience...

The spiked-haired teenager groaned, tipping his recently acquired woven straw hat up and staring at his sandaled feet after realizing that he had just stepped on a pile of dog feces. Once again, as he wiped the intestinal catastrophe on the dirt-filled ground, he secretly longed for his comparatively uncomplicated life back in Tokyo.

The bottom line was that Shinshu as a territory had developed quite a lot from being the infamous Zanza's one-horse hometown to a bustling, if still a bit remote, community center for trade and commerce. They rebuilt this province on rock and roll. And mortar, and bricks, and cobblestones. Wood too.

The proof in the tofu? The recently established wet market in between the "Outa" village and the "Chizuru" village that currently sold a variety of goods and foodstuffs from vegetables, to fish, to poultry and meat products. It was a wonderful turn of events for a formerly impoverished region whose main livelihood was silk-breeding.

"Come back here, Gan!" Yahiko shouted at the bulky man as they pursued one another in the maze-like junctions of several rice paddies, sparrows flying off in their wake. "If you're not going to pay for your food tab, then at the very least _work_ your debt off, you bum!" To himself, he fumed, 'This is the sort of advice that I'd give to rooster head, but this big, fat lout needs it more.'

"Sure thing, Yoshi-boy. I'll stop just as soon as I lose all of my common sense and do whatever it is strangers tell me to do!" Gan mischievously hollered back, his hefty mass undulating as he ran a good ten feet away; he was surprisingly fast for a portly person, Yoshi reckoned. They were nearing the aforementioned wet market now, and even from afar, they were quite the sight to behold.

"HEY, wait a minute! Yahiko! My name is Yahiko! YA-HI-KO!" Yoshi admonished both the unseen narrative prose and the Grubby Gan in sheer exasperation. But before he broke the fourth wall any further, he screamed at his immediate target, "Who the heck are you calling 'Yoshi'? And what the heck's a 'Yoshi' anyway? I don't look like a 'Yoshi'!"

"But you do look like a 'Yoshi' to me, Yoshi-boy!" Gan conversationally yelled out as he barreled into the fresh meat section of the wet market, to Yo... shiko's chagrin. And while _Yahiko_ glared... at nothing in particular, Gan tilted his head just to the left of the furious teenager and queried, "Doesn't he look like a 'Yoshi' to you, mister pirate?"

To Yahiko's surprise, an eye-patched, boyish-looking young man suddenly appeared jogging beside him from out of nowhere and gave him a quick once-over. "Y'know what, Gan-chi? Yeah, he does look like a 'Yoshi' to me," the man appraised with a sage nod.

"WHO ASKED YOU? And while we're on the topic, who the _hell_ are _you_?" Yahiko demanded, bewildered that the one-eyed man could still keep up with the frenetic pace of his sprint without even breaking a sweat.

"My personal name is Munenori and my surname is Minoe, and every time you meet me, you'll meet someone new!" Minoe introduced himself readily, his long bangs and loose clothes bouncing in cadence with his inexplicably relaxed gallop.

"Uh..." Yahiko wittily rejoined.

"Oh, that didn't come out right. Let me try again. Hello, I'm Minoe Munenori! In this wonderful nineteenth century, how is everybody feeling today? What's your name? How old are you? What's your favorite color? What's your favorite animal? Do you like drawing?"

Startled by the rapid-fire questionnaire, Yahiko meant to say, 'What is this, Twenty Questions? Go away!' but it somehow came out as, "Um, Myojin Yahiko, age sixteen, elephant, and I'm terrible at drawing."

Minoe whistled. "Your favorite color is elephant? Well, you like what you like. Anyway, so sorry that I startled you, Yoshi-chi, but I'm also glad that I did; it means that my concealment technique is actually working! I'm so happoof! MMMPH!" the eccentric oddball enthusiastically blabbered before giving the marketplace's sticky cobblestone floor an inadvertent kiss after he slipped face-first onto it.

Yahiko groaned as he stopped and helped Minoe get up on his feet. 'And he was doing so good with his impressive jogging too! Too bad he's a complete and total klutz who's incapable of doing two things at the same time,' the teenaged swordsman evaluated in his head, adding, 'What is with that concealment technique crap of his anyway? Does this guy think he's some sort of stealth ninja trapped in a sea pirate's body or what?'

At the back of Yahiko's mind, he noted to himself that Minoe seemed like a mediocre fusion of Takae and Soujiro. Unconsciously, he fingered his still-fresh sword wounds and flat straw hat in remembrance. He then bristled in seething anger. 'No need to remind myself of good ol' Psycho-Kid. I have enough scars to remember him by for a lifetime.'

"Ugh. That was gross. But anyway, time to go! Ninpou: Kakuremi no Jutsu!" announced the aghast and befuddled Minoe once he regained his vertical base. He straightened himself up as he put his hands together in a bizarre gesture and concentrated hard in making his entire body disappear into unseen obscurity using only his purposeful willpower. The repetitive redundancies, of course, were beside the point.

Through savvy use of the dull hues of his clothing... in colors that could absorb as much light as possible and complement his supposedly feline reflexes... Minoe _should_ have been able to execute an undetectable camouflaging skill that didn't exclusively depend on shadowy concealment. His dark wardrobe and stealthy actions themselves would serve as his mantle of invisibility.

That was the idea, anyway; besides, it wasn't as if Minoe were executing a perfect replica of Takae's Minamo Gakure trick. With half-lidded eyes and a raised eyebrow, Yahiko deftly caught the completely visible Minoe by the scruff of his shadowy hakama and tugged the pirate-ninja hybrid backwards. "And just where do you think you're going? Honestly, moving like an epileptic flea while covering your head with your top as if it were about to rain..."

"AH! Oh no! You can see me? My goodness, I'm so embarrassed! You weren't supposed to see me, you see. Or maybe you don't see, but then again, you did anyway. It's all so confusing," Minoe blubbered pitifully as he worked himself up to a storm, scratching his head and checking his quite opaque and dense self from top to bottom for any signs of transparency.

"This is so surprising! Raedo-sempai and the others assured me that I went completely invisible whenever I used this technique. Although they _did_ keep asking each other what the difference was otherwise... Anyway, please, you've got to believe me! I was invisible, right? Right?"

Not knowing how to respond to Minoe's rhetorical questions and run-on sentences, Yahiko opted to stick with the most relevant subject and reply, "Just because you press your hands together and call out, 'Kakuremi no Jutsu' doesn't necessarily mean that you'll just..."

Somehow, even with what Yahiko deemed as a logical, sensible answer, Minoe maintained his specious, spurious, and non-sequitur edge on the nonsensical conversation.

"Hey, I know! How about I strip my clothes off? Then we'll see if my Ninpou powers do work!" the one-eyed weirdo suggested to Yahiko, but by the way Yahiko's eyes glazed over, Minoe might as well have been talking to thin air. All the same, he made good with his threat, fiddling with his hakama's tightly knotted belt and...

Exhaling irritably, Yahiko straightforwardly interjected, "Have you ever been punched in the face?" before the peculiar little screwball got any further with his dubious plans.

"Not since this last hour, why'd... OH GOB, MY NOWSE! NOB AGEYN! WRY, GOB, WRY?"

'Maybe that's why he has the eye patch: to cover up the black eye he got for not shutting up,' Yahiko fumed as he shook his clenched fist in rage at the howling Minoe. "Stop following me and the Gross Gan, you, you, costumed clown! You're distracting me! I still have to catch that ballooned-up food bandit and... Oh, shiitake mushrooms, I almost forgot. GAN!"

As if on cue, a nearby vendor irately screamed, "HEY! Give that back, you ballooned-up food bandit!" just as Yahiko roused himself from his extensive musings. The young samurai looked up, only to see that Gan had already dashed a good distance away from him, heading towards another forested area.

"Catch me if you can, Yoshi-boy!" Gan gibed, wiggling and slapping his posterior in a mocking manner. Yahiko took umbrage at both the taunt and his newest moniker... which he swore was just inches away from overtaking "Yahiko-chan" on the top of his list of annoying nicknames... but stopped himself cold. Gan was counting on him to do that, he reckoned.

Actually, Yahiko had Gan's simple plan all figured out. Even though he let the wildcard Minoe distract him for quite a bit, his legs did get the unintentional benefit of rest. Besides, the overgrown oaf was still in sight; in the corner of his eyes, at least.

Furthermore, Gan, being Gan, acted on his natural instincts and usual modus operandi when he stole yet another food item from one of the stalls in the wet market. With him acting so predictable, it was only a matter of time before Yahiko caught the troublesome ruffian.

Nevertheless, though he might not look much, the Goofy Gan was quite the street-smart thug in his own right. If he had succeeded in angering Yahiko, the Tokyo Samurai would have called him out and inadvertently made themselves look like accomplices to the nearby vendors, thus delaying their already drawn-out chase even further. The oafish boor almost got away scot-free. It was an admittedly devious but ultimately futile plan.

Cautiously, Yahiko opted to distance himself from the crying Minoe and the gathering crowd as he ran around the back of the wet market to head Gan up at a nearby pass and herd him into a rock-walled dead end. Although he barely visited Shinshu anymore, he still knew this particular area like the back of his hand. He was the man with the plan; the guy who was always one step ahead of his opponents.

Because of the multitude of adventures he had with the infamous Kenshin "Battousai" Himura, Sanosuke "Zanza" Sagara, Kaoru "Tanuki Girl" Kamiya, and Megumi "Kitsune Lady" Hayashibara... no, Oogata... no, Takani... yeah, definitely Takani... he already had a lifetime of fight experience under his belt at such a relatively young age. Hell, he _was_ (more or less, give or take) able to defeat the "Ten Ken" of the Juppon Gatana. This "Great" Gan should be a cakewalk in comparison.

Soon enough, as Yahiko predicted, Gan had already arrived at the aforesaid junction; by his estimations, with just a few sword swings and his notorious forbidden technique, the "Wrath of the End of the Era", Gan was as good as caught.

Then again, no amount of preparation could have prepared Yahiko from being bitch-slapped by Gan care of a very large fish.

The hooligan didn't even give Yahiko a chance to breathe, much less recover. "You will NOT GET MY BABY!" the Great Gan enigmatically screamed as he stuffed the big fish into Yahiko's mouth, grabbed his head, and slammed it against the nearby wall hard enough to cause him to see stars and put a ragged hole onto the rocky crag.

Apparently, Gan's maternal... paternal... _parental_ instincts kicked in and he was now defending the supposed life that he, er, carried. Mo one could fight desperately for his or her child like a parent. The last two sentences made absolutely no sense whatsoever even when considering the context, just like Gan's puzzling motivations.

Anticlimactically, Yahiko heard somebody suddenly scream, "Don't worry, Yahiko-chi! I'll save you! Ninpou: Bunshin no Jyuurk!" followed by a crashing sound on the wall he was stuck in. Before long, the dusty, rubble-strewn, and eye-patched head of Munenori Minoe accosted the sixteen-year-old with a lucid yet paradoxically incoherent, "Things are looking bleak, but we can still burn the river once we cross that bridge over the rainbow-colored bush with the two birds in glass houses," rant before fainting altogether.

What with the fish in his mouth, the rock wall around his neck, the insane food thief behind him, and the ninja/pirate/idiot-savant just beside him, Yahiko couldn't help but follow suit and lose consciousness as well. It was only natural.

* * *

Shinshushin... "Shinshu", in short... wasn't just well-known for its Shinshu Soba and Silk-Weaving. Well, actually, it was just well-known for those two things; more for the type of soba than its other export product by many an average Japanese.

In any case, even though this remote region that had _just_ recently learned the potential of commerce and industry was well-known for only those two exports, the things it wasn't known for... some questionable, some mundane, some innocuous, some controversial, and some even outright illegal... were still quite the popular pursuits nonetheless. More on this later, though.

* * *

_Three months ago, in Shinshushin, Kamiminochi District, Nagano Prefecture, Japan..._

To be even _more_ specific, in the dead end inside the woods near the marketplace in between the towns of Suwa and Nojiri...

Something was wrong.

Yahiko could sense it; a contorting, anxiety-inducing feeling in his gut; a forewarning, almost. It wasn't the same awareness that he used as a swordsman... the sensitivity he'd cultivated that alerted him of his enemy's intent or attacks during battle. It was more of a...

Dammit. It was on the tip of his tongue. It was... an impression of an imminent catastrophe; a suspicion that something was amiss. A feeling like, at any moment now, his world would turn upside-down.

Perhaps it was just the disgusted feeling Yahiko got from sucking on the salty, fishy taste of, well, _fish_ that left him so... discombobulated. Yeah, that was probably it. Or maybe he was just exhausted. Whether it was the aftereffects of his battle three weeks ago or massive internal bleeding, Yahiko couldn't tell. He simply felt tired, weak, and otherwise kaput.

So he spewed the fish out, gagged a little bit, and then opened his eyes. Hundreds of bats looked curiously back at him. To say there was an awkward pause would have been a grand understatement.

Yahiko shut his eyes, counted to twenty, stopped his hyperventilation, and then took stock of the situation. He seemed to be alive. From the motion he could feel, he was either lost at the endless sea or feeling very nauseated with lightheadedness thanks to the cramped space his head was currently wedged in. He guessed it was more the latter reason than the former.

What else? Oh, his mouth was filled with the taste of raw fish that _wasn't_ sushi, sashimi, or pleasant. There were also hordes of scary, grisly bats hanging above his head, but he ultimately decided to handle things one problem at a time. Anyhow, he wanted to wipe the sickening taste of cold-blooded aquatic vertebrate out of his tongue, but his hands and arms were presently "out of reach" at the moment.

There was a lesson to be learned here. Next time Chizuru Raikouji bullied him into doing something he didn't want to get involved with in the first place, he would damn well tell her to shove her nose right up her butt. Yep, he really thought that, because he was "hardcore".

He stirred as another thought came to mind. It just so happened that Miss Raikouji's orders involved pursuing a certain target... a huge, hulking, shaggy, voracious, and brutish type of target, to be more specific. "Gan?" he warily whispered. "Minoe? Anyone?" He stopped, took a breather, then tried again. "The 'Great' Gan? Soba King? The Round Mound of...?"

"Right here, Mister Myojin," a voice whispered back.

"Gan?"

"Uh, no."

A pause. He struggled to move his head towards the sound of the other person's voice before letting out his barrage of name suggestions. "Mister Muscle? Meat Bun Maniac? Man-Tits? Sperubin Jorju? Yamada Taro? Nanashi-no-Gombee? Puringe Warutaru? The Paper? Lizard King? Mister Mojo Risin? Isumisee Aran? Dozaemon?"

"Er, I'm afraid I'm not any of those gentlemen, sir."

"Heh. I got a bit carried away there, huh?"

"Mochiron." The yet-unidentified man coughed primly. "Anyway, it's Minoe, sir. Minoe Munenori. Remember me?" Ah, yes. It was the eye-patched, pirate-like, ninja-like, weird, wimpy, slightly deranged, and definitely effete young man with the gaudy wardrobe and long bangs of fake-looking hair. Minoe was stuck at another junction of the crag or crevice or whatever they were lodged in, just right beside Yahiko.

"Uh, yeah. Very good." Yahiko looked up and gulped. "There are a lot of bats over us, huh?"

"Please don't remind me, sir," the eye-patched girly man implored as he instinctively trembled in dread.

"They're _looking_ at us, Minoe."

"They sure are. Still, in the right light, I'd bet they'd look so cute!" Minoe cheered, his eyes gleaming with childlike wonder. "I mean, look at the expression on the third one to the left. From this distance, doesn't he look like an adorably charming vixen?"

"Um, do you mind, Minoe?" Yahiko shushed after the bats started to move, even the third, "adorably charming vixen" one to the left; _especially_ the third, "adorably charming vixen" one to the left, fittingly enough.

Minoe wasn't listening, though. "I'll call you kitsune-chi, and I'll have you and hug you and love you because you're my little kitsune-chi, kitsune-chi!" The eye-patched man giggled.

Yahiko looked at Minoe bewilderedly, almost nervously, then silently edged away from him, or did the best he could given the circumstances.

Meanwhile, the third bat to the left shrieked happily in response to Minoe's cooing and name-calling... either that or it was simply showing how much it loved the possibility of chewing their noses right off their faces and sucking them dry.

"Well, well, well; look at what we have here," another voice boomed from behind the immobilized Tokyo Samurai Descendant and his brigand for a companion, which would mean that the owner of the aforesaid boisterous voice was currently talking to their backsides. "It's Yoshi-boy and Patches, out to hunt me down. Well, I guess the tables have turned, eh?" The arrogant, egotistical voice couldn't possibly be mistaken for anyone else's.

"Gan," Yahiko fumed through grit teeth as he fiddled with the hilt of his inheritance... Kenshin's sakaba blade. Then, with a grand flourish that would've made the ex-rurouni proud, the trapped young lad insolently asked, "What is with you anyway? Are you really _this_ desperate to skip your food tab? Even if you did eat your own body weight in soba, this is just too much! What's your motivation?" knowing full well that those series of questions were _exactly_ the type he needed given the present state of affairs.

Taken aback by his quarry's gumption, Gan went silent before answering, "I'll pay you the tab when I get the money! You know I'm good for it! Look into my eyes. They're as clear and cloudless as the midday sky, I swear!"

Yahiko couldn't exactly follow Gan's request... what with his head currently stuck to a wall and everything... but he'd bet good money that the massive thug probably had the cloudiest, most unclear eyes he would ever see in his lifetime.

"Uh, okay, so don't look into my eyes. But still, the money's coming, so stop bugging me about it, Yoshi-boy!"

"You don't fool me at all, Gan. If you're good for it, then hand me the cash _now_! I wasn't born yesterday," Yahiko sneered, egging Gan on with an exaggerated gangster tone as he called the older man's bluff. Formerly being part of the yakuza, even as a mere street-rat pickpocket, had its benefits. At quite an early age, the boy had learned to smell bullshit from a mile away.

"Oh, come on, Yoshi-boy! Have a heart. Besides, I'm... just on my way to, uh, get the money to pay you and your friends back! Yeah, that's right!" Another transparent lie; Gan was already falling apart in panic. "Okay, okay! I'll cut you a deal with my precious baby, but you've got to understand my situation! Y'see..."

Hook, line, and sinker... because of Yahiko's special "interrogation technique", he'd cunningly made the wily Gan confess his sob story of a life in just a few minutes. He was _that_ good. It was just a matter of time now.

Adjutant Master... or if you'd prefer, "Mistress"... Kaoru Kamiya drilled into her premiere and, during a certain period of time, _only_ students (the both of them) the importance of being observant during and outside of combat. Yahiko, being such an ever-diligent and well-versed pupil of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, was indeed very observant; observant of Kenshin's past battles as well as his mannerisms, quirks, techniques, and maxims, much to the irritable Kamiya Matriarch's chagrin.

"If you're really _that_ fascinated about Kenshin and Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, then you should have married him before I did, YOU FRUITY KAMATARI WANNABE!" the raccoon woman would retort whenever Yahiko gushed about most anything Kenshin-related and pointed out how much cooler Kenshin-related topics were compared to Kaoru-related ones.

Ergo, Yahiko long ago learned from _Kenshin _the importance of knowing how to defeat your enemies before the fight even started. The mental and psychological edge that people like, say, Soujiro "Psycho-Kid" Seta had over their enemies was nothing short of mind-boggling, pardon the pun.

"Tell me why you are doing this (and variations thereof)," was _the_ key sentence in any critical face-off against villains, thugs, bandits, corrupt authority figures, most any arrogant, higher-than-thou snobs, bigots, and whatnot; those seven little words, exaggerations aside, could conceivably save a person's life.

One might retort, "That's a completely stupid idea that only works in old wives' tales and rural folk songs, you gullible mouth-breather!" Well, as "stupid" as the concept might sound, stroking your enemy's ego by humoring their eccentricities and imploring that they reveal their secret motives and agenda behind their dastardly actions such that they'd voluntarily give you information they wouldn't give otherwise was a sound, _non-stupid_ strategy.

Villains, i.e. The Great Gan, when given the opportunity, would often take a moment to gloat in front of the hero, i.e. Yahiko, whom the villain believed would soon meet his demise and defeat. Commonly used in union with the deathtrap, villains had a nasty habit of pontificating about how their victims were as good as dead. They might also give away details of their evil plots, on the rationale that the hero would die soon. This speech almost always resulted in giving the hero time to escape the trap, providing him the critical information he needed to defeat the villain, or filling in background plot that had not yet been revealed to him.

Occasionally, villains would have motives for their speeches: they felt the hero regarded them as inferior and wished to point out, in detail, the marks of their superiority, or they desired to have their plan admired by the one man who could appreciate the cleverness involved. Most of the time, however, villains just liked hearing themselves talk. In any case, Yahiko had every intention of exploiting this convention... um, weakness.

"...thinks I'm a no-good, worthless buffoon! So I've made it my life's quest, if you will, to prove him wrong and make something out of myself. But he still thinks I'm a failure! I try, and try, but nothing is ever good enough for him! Is getting his approval just too much for me to ask? Tell me that, tell me!" the Great Big Blubbering Gan whined, prattling continuously while trying not to think about the absurdity of ranting to some guy's wiggling butt.

'Damn,' thought Yahiko; Gan was already near the end of his miserable soliloquy, and the boy had just nearly missed it. The Acting Master of the Kamiya Kasshin School had been far too busy thinking about the virtue of tricking villains into doing monologues that he had just distracted himself with his own internal monologue regarding villainous monologues. 'The irony of this situation is just sickening.'

Worse, Yahiko was fairly certain that Gan had just related his life story to him when he wasn't listening. Missing out on that would be truly awful since there might have been something in the man's past to point out to him the error of his villainous ways. That sometimes happened with disinclined villains who eventually went over to the side of justice.

Nonetheless, Yahiko lent an ear to the burly man's plight and caught the last few parts of his speech. "All I wanted in life was four square meals a day, a soft futon, the ability to stomp anything to the ground... specifically to get meals and a soft futon... and _approval_ for my kind of lifestyle! To seek adventure and excitement and really wild things, but not _this_ wild! Not 'Some debt collector wearing a funny hat and his eye-patched pirate friend are chasing me into the wilderness for some funny business' wild!"

Yahiko just... bent over quietly for a brief moment before shaking his head in bewilderment. Screw the monologue, the hooligan was obviously a moronic buffoon who loved to blather utter nonsense! What the Tokyo Samurai Descendant needed was to act and act _now_.

Subtly slipping his sheathed weapon out of his obi and using it to pry his head off of the small fissure, the young boy successfully freed himself from his embarrassing posture, picked up Takae's kabuto on the ground and wore it on his head, and made a beeline towards his hefty, preachy quarry.

Unbeknownst to the spiked-haired young lad, the admittedly forgotten Munenori Minoe had also been freed from his hole in the wall care of Yahiko's effort, but was in a state of panic and distress because of the fact that their sudden escape had caused some considerable damage to the home of their bat friends.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry, my poor little bat friends! Let me help you fix your considerably damaged home!" came Minoe's heartfelt... although stilted and seemingly scripted... pledge.

The small cave ultimately collapsed into dust care of Minoe's well-intentioned yet clumsy ministrations. "Er... Ehehehehe. Perhaps you'd rather move into a nice birdhouse instead? OW! BATS! BATS ALL OVER MY FACE! STOP IT! STOP WITH THE SCRATCHING! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS, KITSUNE-CHI!" Led by "Kitsune-chi", the flying mammals swarmed the one-eyed goofball's face with vengeful frenzy.

Meanwhile; "...Sure, I drink a lot, eat a lot, gamble a lot, get into debt and fights a lot, and a few other unmentionable things that a little kid like you has no business in hearing, but still... Hmmm. I seem to have forgotten the point I was trying to male," Gan obliviously carped, unaware of the charging Yahiko in front of him.

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Yahiko groused as he quickly unsheathed his reverse-edged sword and prepared to wallop the hoodlum from here to Sunday. "I haven't even heard half of what you're saying, and I'm already tired of listening to it! So if you're not going to go _quietly_ with me, then I have no choice but to beat you senseless and force you to go back to the Sakaguchi's Soba Shop!"

Just as Yahiko was about to make a short leap towards the Great Gan for a Ryu Tsui Sen strike on the head, he abruptly bumped face-first into the man's massive girth. The boy reeled from the unexpected move, more surprised than hurt. "Wha...?"

He then felt it; a sense of foreboding. Because of his extensive sword training, battle aura and violent intentions were like signal flares for him, and he was getting a very familiar tingle between his eyes that told him that he needed to get away from the muscular man as soon and as far away as possible.

The relative calm of the forest was disrupted by, well, Minoe's frantic screams as a flock of bats continued to scratch and claw at his face _and_, more importantly, a resounding boom from a fist that completely obliterated the ground where Yahiko was standing on just a second ago.

"Hoo boy, that was close," the young samurai muttered, wiping the cold sweat off of his brow.

Once the dust settled, the Son of Tokyo Samurai couldn't help but laugh at what he saw; Gan's arm from the elbow down was now stuck on the rocky earth as though wedged in a foxhole. "HA! Gotcha! Karma strikes again! Now it's _you_ who's stuck in a compromising position! You're a strong lummox, I'll give you that, but you're none too bright. And you're now wide open." Yahiko chuckled as he leveled his sword at the erstwhile threat.

"Oh really now, Yoshi-boy? That's interesting," the Grinning Gan passive-aggressively scoffed at Yahiko's insinuations with a self-satisfied smirk of his own. "If I were you, I'd be careful with where you're pointing that toy sword of yours, lest you suddenly find yourself choking on it."

Yahiko countered Gan's self-satisfied smirk and scoff with a dismissive snort and a Kaoru-esque roll of the eyes. "Like I'm afraid of a yapping little Spitz's bark." He subsequently made a grand show of sheathing his mostly blunted blade back into its scabbard. "Besides, it's unbecoming of a proud descendant of Tokyo Samurai like myself to strike an unarmed man down... relatively speaking, of course."

"Heh. Don't make me laugh. Like I was actually 'armed'... literally speaking, of course... when you first tried to nick me with that kitchen knife of yours. Give me a break. You're seriously becoming a hypocritical prick, Yoshi-boy." Gan raised Yahiko's derisive snort and Kaoru-esque roll of the eyes with a knowing look of utter smugness and an eyebrow raise to end all eyebrow raises.

"Fine. Sorry about that. To make up for it, I'll just sit here and wait for you to come at me when you're ready," Yahiko obtusely offered as he yawned, squatted on the ground, and crossed his arms in open, double-dog-dare challenge.

"As you wish, your highness," Gan mocked as he let out a feral grin of the I-know-something-you-don't-punk-so-nya-nya variety. From there, the ground shook and rumbled as he shifted his weight to one side.

With a loud grunt and a mighty pull, Gan yanked his arm free from its earthen prison to reveal a large, long, vaguely phallic, cylindrical, and tarp-covered something in his hand that was buried in a shallow grave of sorts. Because of the large man's violent exertions, the ground burst out, sending dozens of debris and hundreds of sharp small stones everywhere.

Yahiko observed in shock as the onslaught threatened to smash every bone in Gan's body... but didn't. The fragments harmlessly pelted the recently retrieved weapon that the powerful thug whirled in front of him like a windmill amidst a monsoon gale.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **A cock's tale.

_In regards to what's coming up: No, it's not a lemon chapter involving Sanosuke. Jeez. Also, I've added several quips taken from the ever-hilarious "8-Bit Theater". I love that webcomic. _

_Note to self: Please include Outa Higashidani and Kosaburo Shinichi in future chapters. Not that I forgot to include them in the earlier chapters, it's just that the Kamiya Dojo was closed at the time. For cleaning. So they couldn't attend classes and stuff. Yeah._

**Salamat sa pagbabasa!_  
_**Abdiel


	7. Chapter 7

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

More of the same, but better.

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Peculiar Chicken**

* * *

"..." was Yahiko's witty quip-retort-comeback-catchphrase-snappy-reply to Gan's amazing feat.

"That was so cool, Gan-chi!" Minoe appraised with a grand flourish after freeing himself from batty nuisances care of the multipurpose fish that Gan stole and used to ambush Yahiko with. "Three cheers for the Great Gan!" the man-boy shouted, hopping up and down in his garish purple and black costume and waving the fish and a confused bat around for good measure.

"..." was Yahiko's droll wisecrack-rejoinder-riposte-teasing-response to Minoe's... whatever. What he _meant_ to think was, 'Oh man, I'm stuck with a couple of psychotic dunderheads that almost make Psycho-Kid seem like a nice, happy, and well-adjusted human being... and that's saying a _lot_,' but was too flabbergasted to do so. And who could blame him?

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I like you, Patches! You're all right," Gan hollered boisterously, grabbing Minoe's ditzy head and petting him like a stray puppy. "Ours were quite the magnificent performances. Weren't they, Yoshi-boy?"

Not bothering to "hear" out Yahiko's predictable four-dotted answer, Gan did an idle follow-through twirl with his weapon that ended with a rather loud thunk on the crater it helped create. Unwrapping the dusty, torn, and withered tarp, he revealed the mystery object to be a sizeable metal stick twice as long and ten times as thick as Yahiko's sakabatou.

"Mine's bigger than yours," Gan predictably sneered at the boggling samurai. "And guess what? I've given your little offer some thought, and I've decided that I'll be the one who kicks your ass from here to Sunday and pay my food tab when I feel like it. I came here to kick ass and eat meat buns, and I'm all out of meat buns."

"Quit acting like that's a spur of the moment decision! You were going to do that anyway!" Yahiko screamed incredulously. He also gulped, but smirked to cover up his hesitation and keep up his confident facade. 'First Psycho-Kid, and now this delusional food bandit. It just never ends.'

Minoe looked adorably troubled for a moment before he put the fish and the bat away and struck his palm with a closed fist of enlightenment. "Meat buns. That was why I was chasing these two. I forgot."

And so, a few metallic clangs, testosterone-filled pose-downs, and lengthy jeers later, the fight finally started.

After getting an initial feel of Gan's rhythm and attack pattern, Yahiko assaulted his languid opponent with Advanced Kamiya Kasshin Ryu Forms Twenty-Four, Fifty, Twelve, and Eighty-Eight with unnerving precision. He landed a chain of unerring combinations that served as both offensive and defensive strikes that took advantage of Gan's sloppy form and lackadaisical approach in combat. In regards to pure sword-fighting skill, Yahiko had the inelegant brute beat.

"You sure you're good enough for this match? We can stop before it gets _ really_ humiliating," Yahiko heckled, his confidence slowly rising despite his Psycho-Kid-related wounds.

The slightly battered Gan chuckled, balled a fist up, and struck his face outright. Straightening his bleeding nose and blowing on it loudly, he drawled, "Now, _that_ hurt. On the other hand, those little mosquito bites of yours didn't. You should've sharpened your sword first, boy; it's as blunt as a rock. Maybe if you hit me about seven times with your strongest strikes, then I might start to feel it." Afterwards, in true smash-mouth fashion, Gan smashed Yahiko's mouth.

Then the real fight started.

Gan weathered the storm of Yahiko's effective counterstrikes and bull-rushed the boy with his whirling dervish of a huge metal stick. Looking at the club up close, it was indeed one of the strangest weapons the young man had ever seen. It had controllable range depending on where Gan slipped his hand, enabling him to switch from attacking with a quick yet bearable blunt strike to a ponderous yet crushing blow in a moment's notice.

'It's annoying, that's what it is,' Yahiko complained in his head as the bulky hooligan kept his strike patterns circular and narrow; even though the Tokyo Samurai Descendant was on the defensive, he still didn't have the opportunity to use the Judo-like Kamiya Kasshin Ryu Defensive Ougi, and doubted he would even have a chance. The downward strike needed to activate the move just wasn't happening. 'Yet.'

Yahiko immediately rectified the situation by striking hard with a calculated Ryu Sho Sen wallop that started somewhere near his ankles and exploded on Gan's hefty jaw. The ruffian reacted as expected, retaliating with a cumbersome yet irresistible finishing blow aimed at the boy's head.

Yahiko crossed his wrists as the metal bat approached his kabuto-covered cranium. "Defensive Ougi... HADOME!"

Gan countered by slipping the metal staff a few notches from his grip and missing Yahiko's head and wrists by mere inches. Consequently, he struck the ground in between the both of them and roared words of rumbling thunder: "HAPPA!"

"Oh bother," Yahiko murmured as he saw the resulting mushroom cloud of utter destruction form in front of him. A few moments later, he found himself sprawled on a pile of rubble and debris from the wall where he had his head stuck into just a minute ago: deja vu and all that.

Had Yahiko not just fought with Soujiro Seta three weeks ago and procured a variety of injuries... and had Gan not just took out a big metal stick that Yahiko couldn't exactly apply his sword-snatching or sword-breaking expertise to... the boy _might've_ had a fighting chance. Hell, he could barely keep up with the plump, brawny man during their impromptu marathon across Shinshu. 'No excuses. A fight's a fight, and I've got to fight smart.'

Yahiko did a quick kip-up, sprinted towards Gan, and when he was just about to crash into the big lug, used his momentum to execute the Kendo version of the Ryu Sou Sen, striking the man down with a Men strike to the top of the head, a Sayu-Men and Yoko-Men to the left and right side of the head, a right Kote to the wrist when Gan struck back, a mocking left Kote when Gan reverted to his guarded position, a Do strike to the torso, and a handle-first Tsuki thrust to the neck within two eye blinks.

As Gan promised, once Yahiko hit him about seven times, he sure did feel it. He fell onto one knee, feeling a bit winded and headachy by the unexpected assault. "Ouch."

Wincing through the agony that chose to make its presence known at that particular exertion, Yahiko fell back and slipped on his heels in sheer exhaustion. He cursed under his breath. 'I should have sat this one out and made Chizuru handle this moronic lug herself, dammit.'

The two combatants shook their heads off of their remaining cobwebs, but alas, Gan recovered his senses first. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, Yoshi-boy; I will _not_ let you take away my _baby_! Not EVER!" He lifted his steel staff once more over Yahiko's head, this time with the intention of not missing its the proper target due to a feint.

Yahiko's metaphorical Sword of Damocles had reappeared, hanging over his head like a specter of death. 'His baby?' he thought through his haze of pain. 'Does he mean the big metal stick?'

Minoe had seen enough. "You can't do that to Yahiko-chi, Gan-chi! You still have your nikuman tab to pay to _me_!" the effeminate boy whined as he gracelessly hit Gan with the overused and trite fish, the edible water-dweller exploding upon impact. "Huh. I don't know my own strength."

"Ick," Gan blubbered after wiping his face and spewing fish entrails out of his mouth. "Jeez. Honestly, Patches! Get out of my way, because I need to conk this latest debtor of mine out cold and call it a day!" the thug waxed poetic as he unceremoniously took Minoe by the scruff of his gi and heaved him off like a wayward house pet.

As Minoe went flying, he pondered aloud, "Then again, the fact that the Great Gan-chi can make Yahiko-chi's head cave-in has nothing to do with the meat bun tab. I saved Yahiko-chi for nothing." He sighed and shrugged in midair. "Oh well." Tragically, due to the fact that he just destroyed his "Bat-Swatting Fish of Doom", the...

"THEY'RE BACK! AHHH! THE BATS ARE ALL BACK!" Minoe screamed as he soared into the sky.

With bored, half-lidded eyes, Gan cleared his throat. "Now where were we? Ah, yes. Sorry, Yoshi-boy. Life can be such a bitch, y'know?" the muscle-bound goon apologized as he hefted his mighty metal club and let it fall down towards the chicken perched on top of Yahiko's kabuto-covered head with all the inevitability of a falling star.

Wait a second. Something wasn't right.

Gan backpedaled _hard_ as he used every muscle in his arms to stop the forward momentum of his metal club, exploiting every last possible loophole of all known laws of physics and gravity by his sheer willpower alone.

With that done, physics and gravity retaliated with a vengeance by bouncing back all the pent-up energy that Gan used to stop his club's descent, which made his arms hyper-contract. The man bit his lip amidst his self-induced torture. "That was close. Ow. So worth it, but ow."

Yahiko... blinked. And blinked. There was some strange human reaction to surprise that demanded him to blink many times to clear his eyes and assure his brain that, "Yes, you did just see the muscle-head stop his own club from turning your head into a second kabuto." It also gave him something to do other than sit like a statue, which was visually uninteresting. "Um, what's up, Gan?"

Bird poop fell on Yahiko's nose. The boy crossed his eyes towards the brim of his hat and saw even more drippings and an upside-down chicken head staring right back him... a funny-looking chicken, at that.

"MY BABY! Oh, please don't hurt my BABY!" Gan begged with completely inappropriate and disturbing motherly tones. "I'll do anything... _anything_... to get him back! I'll... I'll even sell you this big metal stick for scrap metal! Actually, this technically _is_ scrap metal, but a blacksmith doesn't care about those details! Metal is metal! I'm sure it's good enough to pay at least half of my food tab!"

"W-Wait. The chicken is your baby? I thought that stupid metal stick was your baby!" Yahiko confusedly remarked as he wiped the bird feces off with his wristband.

"Oh, this hunk of junk? I love it just a little more than a cheap four-by-four plank, and only because it doesn't chafe my palms and splinter on impact," Gan admitted. "I also buried it here to guard my precious treasure better. But back to our discussion: Come on! _Please_ give me the chicken back! I'll be your best friend!"

Yahiko exhaled loudly and caaaarefully slackened his body to give the poultry atop his head a false sense of security so he could catch it and use it as Gan-bait. Still, the boy couldn't but help feel a bit out of the loop. "So let me get this straight. You made us run the entire length of Shinshushin, hit me with a fish to the face..."

"It was actually for the chicken," Gan elucidated.

"...had my head stuck to a rock wall, talked to my butt, and nearly killed me with your metal version of a four-by-four because of a... chicken?" With amazing dexterity, Yahiko suddenly grabbed hold of his one leverage against the Elusive Gan by its legs. It struggled and squawked. He eventually held it by both wings and it stood still. "Are you really that hard up on drumsticks, sunny-side ups, and chicken wings?"

"Don't be silly, Yoshi-sama," the Humbled Gan soothingly cooed, amiably addressing the young man by adding a special suffix to the name he gave him but still missing the part that annoyed Yahiko the most, which was the name itself. "He's a rooster, so he can't lay any eggs. Also, he's not here to be eaten, or else he'd be long gone..."

"Tell me about it," Yahiko idly interjected.

"...But, _but_, his true purpose is far more, shall we say, rewarding." Gan put his little whacking club away, hunched forward, and wrung his hands in a show of good will, unaware that his body language was giving his true intentions away quite as easily as a pencil-thin moustache, a maniacal laugh, and a buxom beauty tied to the rails of a looming train would.

"I was half-expecting you to say 'sinister' instead of 'rewarding'," Yahiko accentuated his implicit suspicions.

"_Anyway_, since you look like a good, intelligent, handsome young man who'd sooner give me my precious baby back than add to my troubles," Gan expressed the complete opposite of what he thought, even though he hoped the last parts of his lie were true, "I'll tell you the story of how I caught that little moneymaker... er, baby of mine."

Yahiko crooked his mouth to a disbelieving half-frown, closed his eyes, then nodded for Gan to go ahead with his story.

"Thank you. Y'see, I was just around the neighborhood of Suwa, minding my own business, when I heard the rapid flapping of wings. I turned in the direction of the sound and saw these two chickens fighting at the far end of the field. Beak against beak, claw against claw; it was a spectacular fight to the death in a whirlwind of feathers and dust! This rooster... the one you're holding now, anyway... won the fight with a spectacular finish, which had me thinking, 'If I caught a rooster like that, I could get rich in the cockpit.' So I caught it and planned to use it in the local cockfighting circuit. What? Don't look at me like that, that's the whole story, I swear!"

* * *

Going back, Shinshushin... "Shinshu", in short... wasn't just well-known for its Shinshu Soba and Silk-Weaving. The unmentionable things it wasn't known for... some questionable, some mundane, some innocuous, some controversial, and some even outright illegal... well, one of them was cockfighting. Or, as the Spaniards called it, "The Poor Man's Bullfight" but only imagine it in Spanish: "Toreo del Hombre Pobre" or something. Of course, such a title could only be used metaphorically, for it was indeed quite the popular gambling game.

The quick and dirty facts: A cockfight was a betting bloodsport that pitted a pair of specially conditioned roosters against each other inside a ring or cockpit. The cocks or gamecocks were well-bred fighting machines trained to have better power and endurance compared to normal chickens.

Hoods were usually planted on the combatants' heads to pacify them before their match began. Therefore, their wattles and combs were sliced off to fit these hoods easier and to reduce the risk of wounds and infection in those fleshy areas.

Gamecock training also took advantage of and increased the congenital aggression that all roosters had against fellow males of the same species. Furthermore, bets were made on the result of the cockfights, with some of the battles ending up in the death of one or both birds.

The Origin of Cockfighting in Japan was a bit unclear, but cockfighting in general was a murky business to begin with. Nevertheless, it was known for a fact that the "Shamo" or the "Ou (King) Shamo"... a distinctively bred and prized species of gamecock most associated with Japan along with the "Shokoku" and "Satsumadori"... was introduced into the country from Siam way back during the heydays of the Edo period two to three centuries earlier.

Seeing that cockfighting should have been around even before that, the deadly bloodsport was indeed a very old tradition rooted into the very heart of Japanese Underground Culture.

* * *

"How typical of you to use a _stolen chicken_ to aid to your gambling addiction," Yahiko drolly commented as he took a closer look at the fowl in question. He blinked, tilted his head to the side, and chortled.

"I'm afraid lady luck isn't smiling upon you at all, you dolt. I doubt she's even in speaking terms with you. Karma has struck again! You can't use this chicken to get into the cockpit because this chick's a chick! It's a hen, you moron."

"What's the matter with you?" Gan asked in disbelief, nearly slapping the boy for making such ridiculous claims. "Is the heat making you sick and confused?"

"No. If anything, your body odor should be making me sick and the bumps on my head should be making me confused. Still, listen to reason. I mean, look at its head. It has no comb or wattles," Yahiko pointed out. "I'm no expert in chickens, but I've never heard of a rooster that doesn't have a comb or wattles."

"Well, you're right about one thing; you're no expert in chickens," Gan retorted as he attempted to requisition his stolen bird from Yahiko, but the boy still saw it fit to move the prized possession just out of the hoodlum's reach. "No comb or wattles! HA! Who cares about its comb or wattles? You're just saying that because you didn't see it fight! Besides, who's to say this wasn't an escaped professional gamecock whose combs and wattles were already cut off prior to us finding it?"

"Okay, fine," Yahiko relented in the most condescending, disparaging tone he could muster; intonations he usually reserved to get Kaoru/ Sanosuke/Yutaro/probably Chizuru, since he'd already met her/Misao/some random, irritable stranger all riled up. "Let's presume, for the sake of argument, that this hen kicked another chicken's behind. Fine. I'm all for that. Woman power. I've seen ferocious moms that are scarier than thugs like you, so I still say that it doesn't prove anything and this chicken is still a hen."

"A hen! Did you ever see a hen with spurs like that? Or a hen with a tail like that?" the Livid Gan enumerated for Yahiko, now more interested in proving that the big snag in his harebrained moneymaking scheme was all in his skeptical debt collector's cynical, untrusting, and generally mean imagination than getting his prized hen/rooster/ren/ hooster back.

"Okay. Keep your pants on. We'll talk about the chicken's sex on our way to the Sakaguchis. If you can convince me that this chicken is a rooster, then maaaaaybe I'll let you get it into the cockpit so that you can win back the money you owe my friends. If I prove that this chicken is a hen, then it's either we barter it for something more profitable, sell it to a chicken breeder, or have it for breakfast just before you work your soba debt off by washing dishes at the Sakaguchi Soba Shop. Understand?" came Yahiko's ultimatum.

After a few minutes of harried pacing, nail biting, and contemplative brooding, Gan ultimately assented, "Fine! Fine. But if this is a trick to somehow make me lose my baby bird, then you're in for a world of hurt, bandage boy."

Yahiko kept his cool and his machismo in check, remembering the near-loss (or was it "loss"?) he had against his fight with the Blustering Gan and absently rolling down his shirtsleeves to hide the aforesaid bandages.

'If I weren't so busted up because of Psycho-Kid, I would've made mince meat out of you, you two-bit hoodlum,' he griped. Aloud, he scoffed, "Whatever, dude. Pick up your metal stick, wrap it up, and let's get moving."

* * *

_A short while later, on the same debris-ridden outcrop of wasteland that used to be a safe haven for bats and birds alike..._

"Helloooo? Gan-chi? Yahiko-chi? Anyone-chi?" the scratch-marked, bite-marked, and generally bat-marked Minoe whispered carefully, earnestly, and _ desperately_ at... no one in particular as he crawled on his belly, hid behind some bushes, and checked out the quiet graveyard. Catacombs. Surroundings. Same difference, if you asked him.

It was early afternoon, and the sun remained up, but because of a wayward bunch of uninvited clouds and the accursed shadiness of trees, Minoe's immediate environs soon gave the young-looking man-pirate the impression of a chilling, ominous menace.

"Are you two still out here? Because I still need to get the payment for all the meat buns you ate, Gan-chi. Cash-on-delivery would be preferable, but miscellaneous goods and products that are ready for bartering are okay too."

He heard a startling rustle in the distance. "Gan-chi? Yahiko-chi?" He gulped. "Mister Myojin? Mister... Gan? Mister Mojo Risin? Mister Anybody? Please?" He raised his eye patch to get a better look.

Hundreds of pairs of glowing eyes curiously looked back at him. His dearest friends had returned, and none of them were either Gan or Yahiko.

And so Minoe did scream like a little girl amidst hundreds of similarly hypersonic screeches and leathery wing-flaps. Then again, in contrast to his far more emasculating reaction, he ran away like a stampeding horse hooked on heroin.

* * *

_Back inside the Sakaguchi Soba Shop..._

"Welcome to the Sakaguchi Soba...? Ah, Sakaguchi-san! What the hell are you doing here?" Chizuru exclaimed before covering her mouth in shame, muttering a mellifluous, uncommitted apology in regards to her apparent brashness to the visitor that had just arrived at the doorway. "Welcome back, Mister Sakaguchi."

Kyoko Sakaguchi's face brightened like a fireworks display as she set aside the empty serving tray she was holding. "Daddy!" she greeted giddily as she ran towards the rough-shaven man in police garb and gave him a warm embrace. "What are you doing here? I thought you were still stationed over there in Yokohama!"

"I still kind of am, honey, but as soon as I heard that Akahori-san's police escorts for his special Daijokan meeting in Shinshu were a bit shorthanded, I volunteered immediately," Satoru Sakaguchi grinningly explained to his diffident daughter as he hobbled towards her with his cane and patted her head.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit you and your mother earlier. Things have been hectic in and around Yokohoma, what with politicians getting their noses in our business and all. Still, the good news is that the Kaishinto Conservatives had finally toppled that silly Jiyuto Liberal Party... I'm boring you with all this talk about politics, aren't I?"

Kyoko playfully pouted, but couldn't keep it up as it quickly melted into a delighted smile... a shy, tentative, yet happy one that said, "Even though there weren't many police volunteers in Akahori-san's meeting because of the very real danger of an announced assassination attempt right here in our sleepy little town, and you're in danger too for volunteering, I'm just glad you're home." She snuggled closer to her father. "How long are you going to stay here, chichi-ue?"

Kyoko's father scratched the back of his ear and looked at the ceiling. Just like his daughter, he wasn't very good at maintaining false pretenses, so his open-book discomfiture earned him a not-so-playful and heartbreaking scowl of daughterly disappointment.

"The restaurant business is doing well, I hope," Satoru hastily changed the subject as he reluctantly let go of his sweet and precious child. Indeed, their reunion could have gone better.

"It'd probably fare a lot better if Nonoko-san were just a bit more practical with the way she handles customers. She's a patient wife and devoted mother, but those things have little to no bearing with the food industry," the granddaughter of the Sakaguchi's old family friend, Chizuru Raikouji, nonchalantly related... more like tattled... to the Sakaguchi Patriarch in typical roundabout Japanese fashion.

Usually, Chizuru was above such notions of coy backtalk, double entendres, and guerilla conversations. In fact, she had been accused several times of being a pushy, candid, half-Gaijin demon spawn with the sheer amount of brazenness, insolence, disrespect, and moxie she usually brought to the table, as seen with how she dealt with the fake Battousai Group's terrorist activities.

However, she felt that her erudite un-Japanese-ness was only applicable on a case-to-case basis; she didn't think that either of the two elder Sakaguchis would take her seriously with her usual uncouth approach. Raising a big stink, confronting Nonoko's husband in regards to his wife's culturally ingrained doormat submissiveness, and demanding immediate change and action would only make things worse, burn bridges, and reinforce her bad reputation of being a pushy and rude girl.

There were times when even an independent woman like herself had to learn to adapt to the kind of culture she was born in, even if it went against everything she believed to be true in her heart. When in Rome, do as the Romans do; play by other people's rules and learn to respect their opinion as much as you would want them to respect yours and all that jazz.

'Sorry, Kyoko-chan. I can barely stand hearing myself talk like this, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. This is for Nonoko-san's sake, not mine.'

"Still, I'm slightly unnerved about all these unpaid tabs, customers gambling over food, and unsightly characters inside a family restaurant. It's very surprising, to say the least," Chizuru let out in due course, hating every last calm, prying, and hypocritical word she spewed out of her mouth.

"Oh, really? I see," Satoru idly commented as he lifted his cane to his armpit and gently sat down on a nearby bench, making his words as undecipherable and indistinct as possible lest he was within his wife's earshot and he inadvertently made a negative remark about her or betrayed any sort of ill-will and pandering to the concerned/busybody granddaughter of their old family friend. Keeping the peaceful status quo during these very sensitive discussions was the way to go.

Kyoko frowned a moue of consternation, narrowing her eyes ever-so-subtly at Chizuru and her brownnosing but not saying a word about it. Two could play this game.

"Actually, daddy, Chizuru-san just met a boy three weeks back. He's slightly younger than her... by about eight years... but he has already come of age. I do hope I'm not being too brash and all, but in just a year or so, if Chizuru-san were to fail in landing a husband, she'd be at an unmarriable age." The statement was unabashedly non-sequitur and insultingly ad hominem, but it would do.

A pulsating vein popped up on Chizuru's forehead as her face reddened to a slight pinkish color. Truly, the sweet smile that was currently plastered on her burning face would have done Soujiro Seta proud. Kyoko grinned at the much older woman in kind, knowing full well that she'd just hit a nerve.

The Raikouji Heiress refuted, "Speaking of May-December romances, how is Minakata Kinta anyway?" She tossed her luxurious black hair and smirked. "That's a wonderful theory you got there, Kyoko-chan, but Yahiko just isn't my type, I'm afraid. Oh, by the way, didn't you help bring Yahiko back here to us after that incident with the fake Battousai Group? The same Yahiko you've suddenly brought up for no particular reason? You two looked so cute back then!"

Chizuru meant, 'Butt-off, Kyoko. I'm only doing this because Nonoko-san literally had her inventory emptied by a mooching, two-ton brute, and she's doing diddly squat about it. Well, if she won't, then I will, and I'm sure 'daddy dearest' wants to hear more about it.'

The young soba waitress giggled daintily and responded, "I'm sure that Kinta-sama is doing fine, as is Satsuki-neechan, grandfather, and all the rest of our friends back in Kanagawa. Yahiko-san has his own rugged charm, I admit, but if you insist that you don't see him as anything other than a friend, then it's all right. You probably have the same attitude towards him as you do Seta Soujiro-kun anyway. Always the cold shoulder, the insults, the tirades... no man seems ever good enough for you, Chizuru-san. I suppose you were really smitten by that 'vagabond' Battousai you always kept telling everybody about."

Kyoko meant, 'At least _I_ actually have prospects. What do you have, Chizuru-obaasan? Besides, mom knows what she's doing. Unlike cynical, bitter _ you_, mother actually has faith in other people. Besides, until she allowed in Gan-san and his gambling troop, we've never had that many customers. True, most of them weren't paying customers, but... You'll never get married, so nya!'

All the same, taking into consideration both literal and implied meanings of Kyoko's statement, Chizuru now appeared like a human kettle that was just about ready to burst and let steam out of her ears.

"Oh yes. I've met that boy during my last visit here. He and his boss had been up and about the whole Kanto and Chubu regions all month long, as though they were on a long campaign trail or something. Akahori-san's been a very busy bee," Satoru nervously interjected to the rather strange, tense conversation, inwardly cringing at all the hidden female hostilities. "Anyway, from the few times I've talked to him, Soujiro-kun seems like a nice, happy young man, though he usually keeps to himself."

"Speaking of the Seta boy," Chizuru "innocently" interrupted, ignoring Kyoko's wide-eyed glare of warning, "he's a swordsman and a bodyguard to that Akahori person, isn't he? Well, I heard he was actually involved with the sudden demise of an entire gang of gangsters that claimed to be the notorious Battousai Group. Not that he actually did it per se; the remaining Shinshushin police who bothered to do an investigation stated that Keisuke, the fake Battousai Group's leader, was killed in a slightly different manner than all the rest of his deceased comrades. And, knowing how close your wife was to Seta-kun, she might have mentioned to him what happened between Keisuke and your daughter."

Chizuru meant, 'Damn girl, you're better at this than I am, but I won't give up just yet. So yeah, I went there. I tattled on Psycho-Kid.' The Kaoru look-alike watched Kyoko's reaction, expecting yet another round of sweetly acerbic doubletalk, but one look at the girl's eyes told her that she had indeed said too much.

Kyoko waxed melancholic as she remembered Keisuke's last words, her own questions, and Soujiro's regret-filled response.

"Girls, girls," Satoru declared in all seriousness, putting his heavy, sword-calloused hands on both their shoulders and leaving all pretenses of willful conformist tolerance aside, replacing it with a more universal fatherly worry. "What's this I hear about some boy, a fake Battousai Group, Seta-kun, that bastard Keisuke, and a food bandit?"

* * *

It was already in the middle of the afternoon when Gan and Yahiko got back to the town of Shinshu, but they still couldn't agree on what determined the gender of a chicken.

If the animal in question had been a cow, it would've been simple. All they would have to do was to look at the cow... or even look under the cow, to be completely sure. They would've wasted no time at examining its tail, hooves, or horns.

They would simply have looked at the animal straight in the face, and if that wasn't enough (or if they were blind and stupid), then they could check if it had a brass on its nose. If so, the cow would undoubtedly be a bull. But chickens were not like cows. So the argument went on in the semi-bustling streets of "the village that was previously under siege" all the while.

When they passed the marketplace... with Gan carefully avoiding the stall of the merchant he stole fish from... Yahiko bought a tether with the money he just made during Gan's last gambling spree. He was planning to tie the fowl on a peg when they got back into the Sakaguchi's residence. Of course, Gan wasn't feeling too keen about the idea; not the tethering part, but the going-back-to-the-Sakaguchi's-residence part.

"Wouldn't they be a teensy bit angry to see their food thief come back to the scene of the crime?" Gan ventured, airing out the source of his trepidation. Both Yahiko and the chicken gave him a blank look.

The bulky man made a resigned hissing sound with his grit teeth and exhaled. He clenched his hands together with a loud clap and rambled, "Shoot, okay! Okay! I get it. If I don't go with you, I don't get my rooster..."

"Hen."

"...Back. Fine. I'm going. I just ain't gonna be happy about it." And so they did just that, arriving soon after on the front porch of the Sakaguchi Soba Shop. Yahiko slid the door leading into the restaurant, entering with a cowed Gan and the tied-up chicken in tow. "We're back. I got your soba thief right here, Chizuru, and he has gotten us a chicken."

"Hello everybody!" Gan greeted, immediately recovering from his initial glumness and wiggling his fingers around in jolly salutation. He was then welcomed in return by a swift kick to the crotch.

"H-Hello to you too! Chizuru, isn't it? Yeah, I remember you," the thug squeaked and shuddered as he slumped down to his wobbly knees, his voice going up a pitch or two higher than before.

Chizuru put her hands on her hips and gave Yahiko a raised eyebrow of begrudged appreciation. "I'll give you this, little boy; you can _at least_ get the job done. It took you long enough, though."

Yahiko tipped Takae's kabuto over his eyes and snorted.

Chizuru subsequently took the kneeling, bandanna-wearing ruffian by the scruff of his neck, gave him a 'Well, well, well. Look at what we have here,' type of smile, and then loudly inquired, "Hey, Nonoko-san! The damn food thief that cost us a bundle of money has come back with a chicken! He still owes us quite a lot, but would you like some chicken broth mixed with porridge anyway? We still have ginger in the kitchen!"

She blinked after she heard no response. "Oh, that's right. She went out for some groceries. Guess I'll just have to kill, pluck, chop, and boil the chicken myself with or without permission."

"HEY! Don't I get a say in all this?" objected Gan, still feeling the full effects of Chizuru's attack on his manhood. As a consequence, Yahiko warily slinked away from the two, knowing the rich girl's personality well enough to know when to back down, even though they'd just met for a short period of time.

Chizuru easily invaded Gan's personal space in a decisively threatening manner, her predatory grin appearing as if it had a second row of sharp fangs behind it. "Okay then. If you want the chicken to live, then how about I kill, chop, and boil _you_ instead?"

"Er, thanks but no thanks?" Gan hazarded a reply as round globules of cold sweat drenched his taut head bandanna.

Satoru released a tired sigh at the Raikouji daughter's antics. Even though she meant well most of the time and was indeed one of the Sakaguchis' closest family friends, she had an indubitable tendency for overkill. "Stop scaring the food bandit, Chizuru-kun. Besides, you've never actually killed livestock before."

"Hey! No fair, Mister Sakaguchi! _He_ didn't know that!" Chizuru pouted sullenly, then whispered to Gan's ear, "Well, there's always a first time for everything, so don't even _think_ you're off the hook, pal." The robust man's face consequently paled.

The Head of the Sakaguchi Household cleared his throat with finality and motioned to all present to take a seat and gather around him. They quickly obeyed. Though he didn't look the part, Satoru Sakaguchi had an air of unmistakable authority surrounding him.

Once everyone had settled down, Satoru clasped his hands together, smiled congenially at each familiar and unfamiliar face, and announced, "So let's start from the top, shall we?" He turned towards the nearest person. "Who are you?"

Yahiko paused, stared about him, and then pointed towards himself in askance. After Satoru confirmed that it was indeed him he was talking to, the boy hesitantly introduced himself as, "Y-Yahiko. Myojin Yahiko. A descendant of Tokyo Samurai. I've actually started journeying Japan to further my training and..."

'Don't say 'stuff'! Don't say 'stuff'! They won't take you seriously if you talk like that!' he mentally berated himself before lamely adding, "...To widen my horizons. Yeah," taking off his kabuto in a decisively browbeaten and embarrassed manner.

"Oh, OH! Oh yes, I know you! Chizuru-kun and Kyoko-chan have been talking about you! So you're the one who kept my daughter from attacking her stalker and his gang, as well as stopping her duel with her friend! That Yahiko! It's so nice to meet you!"

Satoru beamed, grasping and shaking the Tokyo Samurai Descendant's hands vigorously. Before Yahiko could even utter a response, the older man effortlessly segued, "And you? What's your name, Mister Food Bandit?"

"Er... Gan. Just call me Gan, I mean. It's spelled with the character that looks like a broken, funny-looking chair instead of the one that looks like a crown balanced on a flat tray that's wedged on a wooden box."

* * *

After a nice, long chat concerning the last three weeks' events... and very careful repetition of certain unbelievable details... Satoru was still left confused and perplexed at the complexity of the seeming tall tale's happenings.

It was an understandable reaction. It was hard to wrap his mind around all these stories concerning his hometown of Shinshu being held under siege by a group of pretender terrorists led by his daughter's very stalker, Keisuke. It was like his personal nightmare came to life! God couldn't possibly be this cruel, could he?

Furthermore, just why and how in the world did the so-called fake Battousai Group come up with such an ill-advised name? It was also rather peculiar that a group of men named as such would gather in the very place where actual members of their more dangerous namesakes were reportedly on the prowl for an assassination mission. For the fakes, doing so was equivalent to suicide.

Or perhaps the whole thing smelled more of a setup than a simple bout of stupidity. What a curious debacle. If Akahori weren't shaking in his boots before, he should be right now.

Satoru shook his head to help it sort out his priorities better. In the end, fatherly worry won out against political intrigue. After all, his dear sweet daughter had just risked her life and innocence to stop Keisuke's mad ambitions, as though the trauma he put her though all those years ago wasn't quite enough to satisfy him, that damn perverted asshole. "Honey, I'm so sorry. If I'd known, I would've made that trip back here in Shinshu months ago!"

"..." Gan interjected.

"You couldn't have known, daddy. That's why Keisuke took advantage of that... and the fact that all our local law enforcement had been asked to report to that cowardly politician's mansion... to terrorize our town," Kyoko reassured as she gingerly patted her father's gloved hands. "I'm so sorry for making you worry unnecessarily."

"Then again, you should have known better than to take your grandpa's sword and go off on your own to exact vengeance upon some hooligans and whatnot," Chizuru berated Kyoko in a bossy tone usually accompanied by finger-wagging and intense ladle-whapping.

Also, just to add to the list of people she'd so far affronted, she put her elbow over Gan's shoulder just as she delivered the "hooligans and whatnot" portion of her admonition. "If Yahiko hadn't shown up and stopped you, you would've committed a big, no, _huge_ mistake."

"..." both Kyoko and Gan retorted.

Yahiko raised an eyebrow upon hearing Chizuru's sentiments. "If I hadn't shown up? More like if that mysterious, cross-scarred redhead hadn't shown up and killed off the entire band of Keisuke's goons before Psycho-Kid finished their head honcho himself, then Kyoko-san here would've been in a serious dilemma."

Kyoko furtively glanced at the younger man's direction, reddened like a lamp on New Year's Eve, looked down on the wooden floorboards near her socked feet, and nodded somberly. "If you put it that way, then yes, maybe I should be thanking Soujiro-kun and that stranger, in a manner of speaking."

Yahiko put his hands up defensively at Kyoko and her somber mood as though he were under arrest by the police or something. The very reason he even contended Chizuru's insensitive comments was to spare the mousy girl from delving further into her guilty feelings over Soujiro Seta's actions. The fact that she was acting so very much like a certain Tokyo girl he knew with short hair and a teeny voice didn't help matters either; cue the obligatory sneeze from faraway, if you would.

But then Satoru turned towards the Tokyo Samurai and grilled, "This redhead, what do you think of him, Myojin-kun? Between you and me, I get the feeling he's part of the _real_ Battousai Group. I mean, sure it's a bit presumptuous of me to claim such a thing, but it'd make a lot of sense that such a notorious band of terrorists would send one of their representatives... a particularly obsessed Battousai look-alike fan, even... to finish off their pesky doppelgangers. This act of aggression can also be interpreted as a warning sign to Akahori Tetsuo-san, their intended target."

"I-It's just like you said, sir, but to tell you the truth, outside of that and other circumstantial evidence, I don't really know much of anything about this red-haired guy or the Battousai Group," Yahiko admitted warily, alarmed at Satoru's sudden outburst of inapt enthusiasm, feeling as though the policeman was more interested in the Battousai Group's activities than the trauma his daughter just went through simply because it had something to do with his job protecting the Ishin Shishi politician's life. Then again, Yahiko was _ supposed_ to gather more information about the massacring, cross-scarred redhead.

Unbeknownst to the spiked-haired boy, the squeamish Kyoko gave her father a shy but grateful smile for his earnest attempt at changing the very awkward and delicate subject: the dark side of the enigmatic Soujiro Seta. To discover such a murderous aspect from someone so familiar was unnerving to the young girl. The fact that he evidently killed Keisuke for her sake made her feel even more bewildered.

The mysterious Soujiro had always kept his distance from Kyoko and the Sakaguchis since day one regardless of his facade of amiability, all the while maintaining an air of secrecy behind his mask of bliss.

Satoru nodded to Yahiko's bemusement whilst distracting him from his daughter's own distress before asserting, "Well, what's done is done. There's nothing more that we can do about it. The Battousai Group is on the move and have revealed that they're about to strike two days from now. It's out of our hands." Yahiko flinched accordingly to that part of the announcement.

"I'm truly glad that everyone is safe, but now's the time we discussed our _ other_ agendas. Let's talk about that chicken of yours, Food Bandit-san."

The tethered chicken that Yahiko tied to a peg near a tree at the back of the Sakaguchi Restaurant in the middle of Satoru's cross-examination suddenly flapped its wings and crowed to announce the dawn of the afternoon sunset.

"Aha! Did you hear that?" Gan exclaimed triumphantly. "The chicken crowed! Only _roosters_ crow, Yoshi-boy! 'Hen' my tight, hairy butt! I suppose you're going to tell me now that cows can fly."

Chizuru opened and shut her eyes animatedly at Gan's exclamation, her mouth slackening in confusion. She turned towards Yahiko and asked, "'Yoshi-boy'? Who the hell is he talking to?"

"Yoshi-boy" hurriedly growled a vague and irritated, "Who knows?" at Chizuru, which prompted the young heiress to pause in wonder before widening her eyes in gleeful realization and giggling to her heart's content.

"Aaaaah, so _you're_ Yoshi-boy, huh? Come to think of it, you do look more like a Yoshi than a Yahiko to me! Hihihihihihihihi!" she annoyingly cooed.

"He does, doesn't he? He doesn't think so though, Kaori-neechan!" Gan piped up in kind, as though forgetting that the very same woman he was toadying-up to just recently put his fatherhood in peril. Then again, his unthinking commnet just earned him even more hostility from the aforesaid female.

To say that Chizuru was taken aback by the random name was something that the word "understatement" didn't even begin to cover.

"KAORI? Who the heck is this 'Kaori'? She sounds like an annoying little witch with the vocal range of a baby parrot! And what's with this irritating habit of yours of giving people names that they don't like?" the Kaoru... not Kaori, just to be clear... look-alike lectured with a sharp undertone of "And if you disagree with me, you'll taste my Fist of Death."

Chizuru's outburst earned her bullets of perplexed sweat from a rather baffled Yahiko. 'So it's okay for him to do it to me but not to her? Jeez. Talk about your double standards!' the Tokyoite mused.

"Oh, pipe down, the both of you." As cross-shaped veins popped all over his head, Yahiko did his best to bear with Chizuru and Gan's behavior. "And more to the point, I don't care if your pet chicken crows or not. She's still a hen. If you want to pay back your tab, give the hen to the Sakaguchis for payment and then get a damn job to even out the rest of your balance!"

"Bullshit, that _rooster_ of mine is going to make me lots of money at the cockpits, so I don't need no stinking job!" Gan rowdily rejoined, pointing madly at the tethered fowl's direction. "What I could make in a month doing construction work I can make in a day with my super fighting rooster! So there!"

"It's a hen," Yahiko insisted straightforwardly, his eyes half-shut and his arms crossed. "Give it to the Sakaguchis to either make a stew with or get eggs from."

"Why should they get eggs from it? It's not a hen," Gan persisted, grinding his teeth in aggravation. "It's a rooster. It crows, it's hardcore, and it has the earmarks of a champion. Are you blind?"

"I'm not blind. And that's not a rooster."

"Shut up. It's so a rooster."

As it was, Gan remained as focused on the argument as an arrow was on a target. Or a metal bat to a target, as the case may be. Vigilant and ready to do battle, to lock horns and prove his mettle. Ready to smash a swift path to victory... but so was Yahiko.

"It's not!"

"It's too!"

"Oh, that's real mature."

"So you're admitting defeat?"

"Who's admitting defeat? It's a hen!"

The Sakaguchi Patriarch and his beloved daughter watched on in awestruck fascination as the bizarre dialogue concerning poultry declined into churlish and juvenile prattle.

As they turned their heads back and forth from Yahiko to Gan while the ping-pong exchange escalated, they pondered to themselves, 'Have these people really met each other just recently? The way they talk to one another makes it seem as though it's the other way around.'

"I don't see what the problem is, you two. I mean, if you really wanted to know what gender that chicken is, all you really have to do is... well, y'know... look underneath and see for yourself," Chizuru pointed out awkwardly but bluntly, her cheeks pink yet her eyebrows raised in wonder at how Yahiko and Gan could miss out such an obvious answer.

Typically, the entirety of the somewhat diffident Kyoko's face turned bright crimson after realizing what Chizuru was suggesting. "Y-You don't mean...?" She gave Yahiko and Gan a quick glance then hid her burgundy face beneath her hands after her eyes involuntarily traveled southward. "Eek! Chizuru-san! That's so embarrassing!"

"Chizuru-kun! Wash that potty mouth of yours with soap, young woman! There are children here!" Satoru protested as he pointed at both Yahiko and Kyoko, which earned him looks of exasperation from the very same people.

A vein popped on Chizuru's forehead as she snapped, "Lift the chicken up and see what it has got underneath its knickers. Yeah, that's what I said. So what? Kyoko should know the difference between a bird and a bee by now, and so should Yoshi-boy."

Yahiko scratched his cheek in vexation and sighed. "Boy," he supposed condescendingly, "where in the world do you get these silly ideas? I guess you really are a spoiled little rich girl. Right, Kaori-neesan?"

"Wha...? Watch that tone of voice of yours! What does that have to do with anything?" Chizuru demanded. "And if anybody calls me 'Kaori-neesan'... or whatever variation thereof... one more time, I'll... I... well, you'll damn well wish you hadn't, that's for sure."

Gan boomed and rumbled with baritone laughter. "Chickens don't have any obvious limp noodles or pink oysters underneath them, Kao... I mean, neechan." He cleared his throat. "Chickens have no external sex organs. Male and female alike only have one opening for everything: egg, pee, poo, and sex all carry on in the same place... in their special little 'vents,' so to speak."

"Ew! Gross!" Kyoko girlishly cried out as she made a face. "I'm not quite sure I wanted to know that, Food Bandit-san."

Chizuru stuck her tongue out in kind. "That's disgusting. Informative, but disgusting." Coughing primly, the Raikouji Heiress relented to some extent, "So I guess it really is tough to tell a rooster from a hen outside of wattles and crowing, huh?" which was her roundabout way of admitting, "I was wrong. I went on and on about that rooster-hen thing even though I really had no idea what I was talking about. Sorry about that." Or at least that was the way Gan interpreted it.

Gan roared with even more misplaced mirth. "Ah, don't worry about it! It's a common mistake for city folk to make about chickens, Kaori-neechaark!" the thug-like food thief choked as his umpteenth thoughtless remark of the day caused his brief schlep with Chizuru's goodwill to come to a grinding and painful halt.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next:** A rooster or a hen?

_Credit for most of the framework of the story goes to a, er, local "bard" this time. Hearty thanks and salutations to Alejandro R. Roces for providing most of the material on which this chapter was based on. "My Brother's Peculiar Chicken" is a fascinating and funny story I've read in my childhood._

_And though I'm probably going out on a limb here with the "Yoshi" references, I don't care. My nostalgic bias of the (in retrospect, mediocre at best, horrific at worst) Sony dub of "Samurai X" demands that I put it in there. Expect references to "Kenshi", "Kaori", and "Sato" in the near future._

**Salamat sa pagbabasa!_  
_**Abdiel


	8. Chapter 8

"The difference between 'involvement' and 'commitment' is like an eggs-and-ham breakfast: the chicken was 'involved', the pig was 'committed'."

**(Unknown)**

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

Here's more Chicken Madness.

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Peculiar Peculiars**

* * *

It appeared that Chizuru was not amused. And neither was Gan, especially after the Raikouji woman unceremoniously kicked his shin. Being an indubitably straightforward guy himself, he surmised the obvious, stating, "You really hate that name, huh?" as he hopped about on one leg.

Chizuru merely turned her head away from the hoodlum and indignantly flipped her hair in one motion.

"Actually," came Satoru's timely interruption that, by chance, caught everyone's attention once more, "regardless of ambiguous 'vents', I have no doubts that Gan-san's chicken is a rooster that looks like a hen. Or an Onnako, if you will."

"Ah, I see. Yes, yes, of course!" Gan chimed in, nodding vigorously as he hobbled towards the somewhat startled Satoru and slung his meaty arms over him. "Imagine! A rooster that looks like a hen! Ah, hell, I guess that makes sense. He's a mighty fine rooster if I do say so myself. Good for cockfighting and stuff! Don't you agree, Mister Sakaguchi?"

"Huh?" Satoru stammered in stupefaction, which the burly lout took as a signal to continue his wheedling.

"In fact, I bet my rooster will soooo help me pay off all the food bills I owe your wife and then some! So what do you say, sir? If you'll just let both me and my rooster go right now, I'll make sure that..."

"Now wait just a minute!" Chizuru and Yahiko protested in unwilling chorus, or perhaps chorused in very willing protest, which made them glance at each other in surprised incomprehension.

Whichever the case, Chizuru recovered first, pinching Gan's right earlobe and recommencing, "That _policeman_ and husband of the woman you just conned is the last person you should try to swindle, bandanna man! He'd sooner throw you to the hoosegow than risk having your payment go down the drain because of your serious gambling addiction. You can bet on _that_, at least."

"Ulp," Gan ulped. He then took his arm off of Satoru and adjusted the older man's collar and coat. "Heh, heh. Um, sorry about that, officer."

"Besides which, I think father is mistaken about that chicken." All and sundry turned towards the latest person to walk into the bizarre conversation's spotlight, which they all thought was Kyoko, but she merely shook her head vigorously and proclaimed, "That wasn't me!"

"Good afternoon," Nonoko Sakaguchi bowed, waved, then playfully took out a leek from her basket of groceries and twirled it around like a baton. Cue the expected spit-takes and facefaults.

"W-What are you doing here, Nonoko-san? And since when did you get here anyway?" Yahiko queried hotly, more flustered than annoyed.

"I've been here since you and our unpaid customer-san arrived here, Yahiko-kun," Nonoko answered blissfully as she set aside her groceries on the nearest table and took a seat. "I'm guessing that the chicken outside is part of Gan-san's payment, eh? Wow, how thoughtful!" Yahiko inwardly groaned at that last statement.

Gan started to think of something to say to acknowledge his own presence to Nonoko... perhaps a greeting, or even an apology... but his instincts told him that the pushy, tactless Chizuru was just going to interrupt him anyway, so he didn't bother.

"You've been here the whole time? Why didn't you even try to let us know you're here?" True to form, Chizuru admonished Nonoko's sudden appearance, her hands on her hips, more annoyed than flustered.

"Oh? I was so surprised and happy that my dear husband has come home after such a long time that I _wanted_ to greet everyone from the start, but I thought it was rude for me to interrupt your interesting little discussion," Nonoko justified, adding, "So I basically waited for the opportunity to be part of your conversation. It's the polite thing to do, I believe."

Chizuru bemoaned Nonoko's reasoning with a look of utter exasperation on her face, giving Kyoko a meaningful glance that stated, "Now do you understand why we had that little argument a while back? Why your mother was duped by a harebrained scheme from an overeating gambling addict? _This_ is the reason why."

"Well, I don't quite understand what's going on, but if that's the case... I'm back, Honey! I'm so happy to be able to return to my home sweet home after such a long time and see that nothing has changed! Come, join our little dialogue. Debate on it to your heart's content," Satoru hailed as he took his wife by the hand and kissed her on the cheek.

"Welcome home, dear! I'd love to fix you an early dinner, but I'm still wondering whether or not I should make chicken stew, chicken soup, or fried chicken," Gan shook his head forcefully at all of Nonoko's suggestions, "or maybe I should just save it for later and have a vegetable stew for now, just so we can wait for her to lay her eggs. Raw eggs go great with Tanuki Udon, don't you think?"

"I love your Tanuki Udon almost as much as your Extra Large Special Soba! I'll look forward to it, Honey. Oh boy, I knew coming home to Shinshu was a great idea," Satoru enthused, doing his silly little jig of ecstasy that sent nearly everyone else to the floor, their limbs a twisted mass of vexation. "But setting all that aside... Mother, I think you're mistaken about one teensy little thing."

Nonoko tilted her head in askance as an unseen flash of light struck her right between the eyes. "Oh? And what's that, dear?" Her sweet voice belied a disconcerting sharpness that made Chizuru, Kyoko, and Satoru flinch; their minute reaction went over both Yahiko and Gan's heads only because, as outsiders to the Sakaguchi circle, the pair wouldn't know better. "Well? What's that one teensy thing you're talking about, father?"

"Uh, well, you see..." Satoru's eyes darted around the room as he struggled for an appropriate reply, then found the resolve to condescendingly answer, "I'm sorry, but you're wrong. The chicken outside is obviously a rooster. After all, it just crowed a while ago."

Satoru's sudden burst of assuredness was backed by recalling the culture-conditioned belief that the Japanese Patriarch should always have the final say-so in most any family discussion.

Still smiling her sugary smile, Nonoko begged to differ, maintaining, "But you're the one who's confused, dear. It most certainly is an Otome: A hen that looks like a rooster."

"First time I ever heard 'Otome' used that way," Chizuru whispered, not said aloud, because even though Nonoko had always been the epitome of the typical submissive Japanese housewife, that fiery, stubborn look she currently sported was something to be reckoned with.

'Huh. I guess I'm a bad influence to her after all,' the Raikouji Heiress admitted to herself.

"Huh. I guess you're a bad influence to the soba lady after all." Of course, true or not, Chizuru still didn't want to hear that same sentiment from _Gan_, of all people. "OW! Stop kicking me on the shin, woman! I just went through an impromptu marathon, y'know!"

To Nonoko's chagrin, Gan wasn't the only one inadvertently reiterating Chizuru's tart remarks. "Come now, mother! That's the first time I ever heard 'Otome' used that way! That sounds completely redundant! You're obviously making up new meanings to words, because 'Otome' doesn't mean what you think it means!"

"Well, at least I'm not outright making up words! 'Onnako' is definitely not a word! Have you been drinking again?" Nonoko accused in rapid-fire succession, her eyebrows firmly furrowed together in spousal disapproval and disappointment.

"N-No, of course not!" Satoru defensively sputtered, taken aback by his wife's sudden change in temperament and her harsh non-sequitur. Claiming a rooster to be a rooster was nothing to be angry about, dammit! Or so he thought, anyway.

"Then what makes you say that that hen is a rooster? Have you ever seen a rooster with feathers like this?" Nonoko disputed as she picked out the chicken feathers stuck on her kimono's sleeves and thrust them at her husband's face. To think that he'd question her judgment as though she were only jumping to a spur-of-the-moment conclusion! How rude!

Earlier, while the five of them were chitchatting desultory topics about this and that inside the soba shop, the Sakaguchi Matriarch had secretly examined the odd bird for herself. She had inspected it thoroughly and was quite certain that it was a she and not a he... hence the feathers on her sleeves.

"Listen. My father and I have handled fighting roosters since I was a little boy, unlike you and your swordsmith father. If this were a discussion concerning swords and metal forging, I'd take your word for it, but as it is, you know nothing about poultry!" Satoru commandingly snapped, his livid face becoming red enough to give credence to Nonoko's previous allegations of drunkenness.

Before Yahiko, Gan, Chizuru, and Kyoko realized what had happened, both husband and wife were now arguing about the chicken all by themselves. The four of them watched in engrossed raptness as the train wreck of a lover's quarrel concerning fowl gender declined into unpleasant and immature nonsense... from two adults that should know better, no less.

"Is this what we get for including you in the Sakaguchi family register? You ingrate! How dare you insult my father's occupation!"

"Who's insulting whose occupation? You're twisting my words! I'm just saying that the son of a gamecock breeder knows more about chickens than the daughter of a swordsmith!"

"Heh. He said cock... OW! MAN! Can you at least kick the _other_ leg, Kaori-OW! NOT _NOW_!"

"Yahiko! Do something!"

"Nu-uh."

"Enough about my father or your father! They have nothing to do with the fact that that chicken is a rooster!"

"Father? Mother?"

As the foursome turned their heads back and forth from Nonoko to Satoru while the ping-pong exchange escalated, they silently pondered to themselves, "..."

Soon, Nonoko was crying. As Kyoko and Chizuru knew, she always cried whenever she argued with her husband. "You know full well that it's a hen," the middle-aged woman sobbed petulantly. "You're just being mean and stubborn. To think I was so excited about cooking you a Tanuki Udon, and then you pull a stunt like this! Anata no baka!"

Distraught, Nonoko went straight for her disconcerted daughter and wept on her shoulder. As Kyoko awkwardly comforted her mother, she herself looked like she was about to cry, though for an entirely different reason.

"I'm sorry," Satoru apologized, "but I know a rooster when I see one." Then he gently eased Kyoko out of Nonoko's grip and tenderly put his arms around his trembling wife, calling her cheesy names like my Princess Kaguya, my Izanami, and my Tamamo-no-Mae, because he always did that when she cried.

Yahiko and Gan felt rather embarrassed/upset/guilty/queasy for witnessing (and indirectly causing) such a private and tender moment, so they decided to sneak out to the back of the restaurant without another word... which was a wise and self-preserving thing to do, bearing in mind that Chizuru was already cracking her knuckles in righteous female indignation.

Curiously enough, it was Kyoko who intercepted the two browbeaten males just as they were fetching their tied-up, androgynous chicken. Yahiko had never seen the Sakaguchi girl so irate since... well, he first met her, truth be told, but that was when she was still suffering from residual trauma caused by the fake Battousai Group's deceased leader, Keisuke. It looked like the good graces he had just earned from her after surviving the hellish Soujiro Seta fight had come and gone like sea foam.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" Yahiko cautiously probed as he wiped his sweaty brow, his pleading eyes subtly reminding the girl, 'I kind of, sort of saved you from Psycho-Kid; that counts for something, right?' He pointed at Gan, debating, "You should be mad at him! Well, er, what I meant to say was... I'm sorry about... him. Real sorry. He's sick, you see. Leprosy of the brain. OUCH!"

"Just because I can bear that kind of abuse from Kaori-neechan doesn't mean I'll let you off the hook when you do it, Yoshi-boy!" Gan grumbled after conking the boy with his wrapped-up metal bat. "Seriously! Give a person a hand, and he'll take your whole..."

A sudden shout of "ENOUGH!" shut the both of them up.

Glaring daggers at Gan, Yahiko, and the hapless rooster/hen, Kyoko gently warned, "Please don't come anywhere near the soba shop with that chicken of yours. If you want to pay your bill, pay us with something else, preferably cash," which roughly translated to "Don't you dare make my parents argue again. This is the first time I've seen my father in months, and I want a happy family reunion. Do this because me and my grandfather's sword cane said so." With that, she brusquely turned and slid the shop's backdoor shut right in front of the two men's shocked faces.

For a long time, the two supposedly macho warriors just stood there, completely flabbergasted. The sunset came and went, minding its own business.

"Hey, Yoshi-boy."

A pause. "Eh?"

"What just happened?" A stray dog howled in the distance.

Yahiko put a hand over his obi and slid Takae's kabuto over his spiky hair. "Who knows?"

* * *

"Jeez. I'm just glad to be out of that restaurant, to be honest," Gan confessed, his presently genderless bird and token big blunt object in tow. "There were way too many people in that room that I couldn't cut in on the conversation in the later parts. It made me feel like an extra in a Kabuki show. And a family feud even erupted from out of nowhere, for Buddha's sake! I also had less 'screen time' than I would have preferred."

"Huh. The comic relief wants more 'screen time.' That's rich," Yahiko mumbled.

"What did you just say?" Gan brazenly confronted.

"I said I know who can settle this question," Yahiko replied... lied, actually... ithout missing a beat.

"What question?" Gan inquired, scratching his head.

"MAN! You really are too dumb to live! Are you even paying attention?" was what Yahiko was supposed to say had Gan not put him in a chokehold after the "too dumb to live" crack.

Luckily for them, the unattended chicken itself was too dumb to live, staring soullessly at the whole scene when it could have just escaped. "GEE! SORRY FOR BEING TOO DUMB TO LIVE! OOPS! ME SO DUMB ME ACCIDENTALLY BROKEN YOUR NECK!"

Yahiko's "Didn't you want to know whether that chicken is a rooster or a hen?" came out as "Hgggk ykk wgak ta nu wrggak chork su a gurkle ora hrk!" but somehow, thankfully, the allegedly Dodo-brained Gan was able to somewhat decipher the statement.

"Oh, so that's what you meant. Why didn't you just say so in the first place? You're the one who's too dumb to live, moron!" The thuggish brute let the sixteen year old go, but then balked, querying, "Hey, you okay, Yoshi-boy? What are you doing there on the ground? Hey! Hang on!"

After gasping for air for what seemed to be hours on end while the Unnerved Gan unknowingly worsened his condition by violently swatting him on the back as though he were choking on something, the blue-faced Yahiko was able to recover his health and wits. Barely.

"L-Like I was saying... (cough) I may know someone who can tell the difference between a rooster and a hen better than squabbling spouses can."

Gan skeptically raised a bushy eyebrow as he gently took hold of the chicken in question, which surprised Yahiko to some extent. "Oh no. I'm through with trying to find out whether this chicken is a chick or a cock! Who the hell cares anyway? Let's get this over with and just go to the cockpits already!"

"Hmmm. That... actually sounds fair. Wow. I take back what I said about you being too dumb to live." Yahiko nodded, impressed. "Though I'm still morbidly curious whether or not I'm right about this chicken's gender... and I certainly don't think a hen should compete in a cockfight... why the hell not? Nobody can tell the difference anyway. You're right. Let's get this over with right now."

"Hey, hey! Can't we give this rooster a name, Yoshi-boy? I'm kind of sick and tired referring to it as 'the chicken' and shit all the time. Let's give it a better name, okay?" was Gan's off-topic request, feeling as though he "owed" Yahiko enough to ask for permission.

Yahiko made a face. "What is it with you and naming things, you weirdo? Focus for a minute, okay!"

Well, Gan _was_ focused, but on an altogether different topic. "Oh, I know! Let's name him Sanosuke! That's a great name, right?"

The spit-take Yahiko did was so priceless, it was indescribable. "What?"

"Oh, so you know about Sanosuke too?" Gan stuck out his barrel chest and thumped on it proudly. "Harada Sanosuke: The Tenth Unit Captain of the Shinsengumi. A man's man whom even Vice-Commander Hijikata trusted and respected. One of the key players involved in the eventual assassination of the madman known as Serizawa Kamo. You really must know your history, Yoshi-boy! That's very good. Not many Meiji brats know about these things." It was the brawny man's turn to nod in admiration.

Yahiko hastily wiped the abnormally large drop of sweat at the back of his head. 'Who the hell is Harada Sanosuke? Ah, whatever. Still, a 'rooster' just got named after 'rooster head', and I wasn't the one who did it. How bizarre. What an amusingly strange guy you are, Gan,' Yahiko summed up to himself as he privately chuckled. "Fine, fine. Our tomboy hen's name is Sanosuke. So as I was saying..."

"So who's that person you were just talking about? The one who can tell Sanosuke's true gender?" Gan cheerfully resumed.

Yahiko extricated his face from the ground. "YOU WERE JUST SAYING THAT WE SHOULD LET THAT MATTER DROP AND GO TO THE COCKPITS, MEATHEAD!"

"Hey! Come on! You just said that you were morbidly curious about whether or not you're right about that chicken! Want to bet on it?" Gan smilingly offered. Yahiko glared at Gan. The beefier man cleared his throat.

"Besides which, I've already changed my mind. Keep your shirt on, kiddo," the hoodlum defended, having enough clueless gall to be befuddled by Yahiko's reaction, of all things. "A rooster named Sanosuke just has to be the strongest, most macho rooster of all time, so there's no way it could be a girly little chicken."

'Can that even be called a reason? This guy is giving me a splitting headache just by existing. Jeez.' Yahiko waved Gan's blather off. "Fine, fine. _Just make up your mind already_!"

"So?" Gan playfully nudged Yahiko's shoulder. "Who is it?"

"We're going to see the father of a friend of mine," Yahiko stated as he instinctively petted the newly christened "Sanosuke" on the head. It pecked his fingers in return.

Grumbling and shaking his throbbing hand, Yahiko continued, "Before getting into the silk-weaving and thatch-sewing business, he was also involved in cockfighting and a host of other questionable professions that he doesn't bother mention. He's a man of many trades. I swear, you can throw him anywhere in Japan, from Okinawa to Hokkaido, and he'd still survive. He lives downtown in Shinshu."

After a significantly long period of uncomfortable silence, Gan groused, "_So_?" as he tapped a calloused foot impatiently. "What's his name, this Anywhere Man?"

Yahiko ground his teeth together. He wished that Sanosuke Sagara's (nee Higashidani) father's name _was_ Anywhere Man. For once, the boy actually understood Gan's mania of giving everyone he met "better" names. It was just that... well... the name Higashidani was already a tongue-twister in itself, but to couple that with a silly name like Kamichu... Monkagisho... Goemonshiga... 'Dammit, I couldn't even pronounce _or_ remember it in my mind!'

"WHO IS ANYWHERE MAN?" Gan queried dramatically, shaking the distracted Yahiko by the shoulders.

"His name is... His name is..." Yahiko was sweating bullets by this time. "Kamigoe..." he mumbled.

"Minoe?" Gan queried.

"No, no!" Yahiko stared vacantly at Gan, blinking in idle surprise. "Eh? Minoe? Are you kidding me? That eye-patched weirdo is the last person I'd ask about the time of day, much less that chicken's gender." He stopped himself halfway through his thoughtless diatribe, pensively deducing, "He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

"And he's crying too," Gan confirmed, which made Yahiko cringe and wince.

'I knew it,' the younger man surmised in resignation.

"You're being mean to me for no good reason, Yahiko-chi!" Minoe sniveled, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks through both of his eyes... patched and un-patched... which made Yahiko wonder if the eye patch was just ornamental.

"You may complain about the names Gan-chi gives to people or how strange I may act, but you yourself have a way with words! Don't you know what daggers and knives tactless words can be to the human heart?"

"S-Sorry about that," Yahiko stumbled, scratching his head at the pitiful scene. "I-I didn't know you were behind me."

And so yet another unthinking, double-entendre faux pas entrenched itself inside Minoe's glass heart, making him wail even louder. "I didn't mean it that way! Come on!" the spiked-haired lad protested.

"The jerk store called. They're running out of you," Gan heckled in retaliation, suddenly appearing beside the crying Minoe in order to gang up on the ingenuous Yahiko. To the young man's mortification, even the chicken itself looked at him disapprovingly.

"OKAY! I get it." Yahiko guiltily bowed low in front of them. "I'm sorry. Terribly sorry. It's my fault. I won't do it again. Probably."

The trembling, pathetic look that Minoe presently sported told Yahiko that his cordial apology wasn't quite enough to appease the sensitive man. So, in order for him to get things over with and manage a Japanese-approved way for the blubbering fool to save face, he did something he just _knew_ he'd regret later.

"So how would you solve this chicken dilemma, Minoe-san?"

As though he hadn't just bawled his eyes out, Minoe perked up like a sugar-high toddler, recovering his composure in record time. "Now that I've discovered that no one man can solve your problems, I've now decided to contribute to them!"

Yahiko palmed his face and shook his head, feeling as though he had just been had.

* * *

_Three weeks ago, in Jusanro Tani's old mansion outside Shinshu... _

"You look well," the glasses-wearing middle-aged man greeted the boyish twenty-something that just entered his room. "You were all sweaty and tired yesterday, collapsing unto your futon in exhaustion. However, you looked quite happy, from what I can see."

The older man clasped his hands into a steeple and rested his face on them, the glint on his spectacles obscuring his impenetrable expression. "Did something interesting happen, Seta-kun?"

Soujiro smiled and chuckled gaily. "You can tell when I'm happy? I'm impressed, Akahori-san. I truly am."

"You're slightly hobbling in your step," Tetsuo Akahori appraised, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you really have such a hard time with that fake Battousai Group or was your report false and you already engaged in a fight with the real Battousai Group?"

"That's not it," Soujiro smilingly waved off as he approached his hawkeyed employer. "Like I said in my report, nearly all of the doppelganger hoodlums were wiped out by the time I arrived, save one who was, bizarrely enough, castrated and left to die of blood loss. I mercy-killed him for his own sake."

Akahori knew that Soujiro was lying through his teeth with his last remark, for he was quite aware of the boy's relationship with the Sakaguchis' only biological daughter, Kyoko, and her connection with the castration victim, but he gave it no heed.

"Take note of that castration. It reveals a little something about our enemy's motive and psyche that we can use later on. The man who was castrated was a known rapist and murderer, was he not? That may have something to do with it... an instance borne out of a twisted sense of justice, if you will."

"Yes, sir," Soujiro assented, his smile unchanging. "I'll take note of it, sir."

"Is your fight with the Myojin boy the reason why your legs are cramped up? You said he was of no consequence to your mission, but you bothered to report his presence nonetheless," Akahori probed further, his deadpan eyes, stony features, and clinical tone betraying nothing of his own opinions.

Soujiro felt as if every meeting with Akahori played out like an intense game of poker, what with them sporting pokerfaced expressions during their sessions of roundabout question and answer and all. "That's not it either. I got this slight cramp _after_ the fight, when I ran back to the mansion to... exercise. The boy himself was of no threat to me."

"Sit," Akahori ordered, and then evaluated, "Everything has a cause and an effect... a motive and an opportunity to act upon it. You just had your katana broken during a fight; something that hasn't happened in years. The only other person to accomplish this feat was the first person who had ever defeated you in a swordfight.

"Although you didn't even have a scratch on you after fighting this Myojin Yahiko, the truth that he'd bested you, however slight, has made you wary or even excited. I believe the fact that this boy has ties to Himura Battousai has something to do with your actions. You must've been thinking, 'Why couldn't I finish him off?' or 'How does he keep on catching up to me?' leaving you intrigued and bothered.

"That's the reason why you did something as careless as wasting your energy by running from the outskirts of East Valley to this mansion outside Shinshu using your full Shukuchi. It had nothing to do with being late for your daily report. You wanted to see your current limits for yourself, because the boy had nearly discovered them for you."

Soujiro laughed out loud in his seat, his hand scratching the back of his head in seeming sheepishness. "You got me, Akahori-san. Nothing escapes your razor-sharp wit and steel-trap intellect."

For once, Akahori wasn't quite able to figure out what Soujiro was thinking... whether the young man intended his praise to be sincere or sarcastic.

There was a pregnant pause. "How _did_ Yahiko-san manage to catch up to me, Akahori-san? Was it my fault? Was it a fluke?" the former Ten Ken ventured after some thought.

"A trapped, desperate man that had everything on the line will take advantage of absolutely anything at hand to get out of his dead end, whether consciously or subconsciously. In Myojin-kun's case, I gather that he must have taken advantage of your sudden bursts of excitement and continuing vexation, using them instead of murderous intent to predict your next move. He was able to discover a weakness that you yourself weren't aware of."

Akahori sat up and morosely looked through the western-styled glass door leading to the balcony, his back turned at Soujiro. "In other words, he used the same tactic Battousai used to get into your head, making you defeat yourself yet again."

Soujiro lowered his eyes in outwardly jovial contemplation. "I see."

Akahori turned and looked directly at his charge, his eyes burning with a depth and passion that the boy had never imagined he possessed, making him look like a totally different person.

"Don't be careless. I need your strength at this critical time. I have time and again pointed out to you the weak points of your Shukuchi and your own fragile heart: weapons that our enemies can use against you. That's all I can do. It's entirely up to you to overcome them. Do this, and become stronger. Unleash the true potential of the Ten Ken, and you will find the answer you've been searching for that neither Shishio Makoto nor Himura Kenshin can provide."

Soujiro stood up and bowed obediently. "Thank you." He took his leave.

* * *

_Three weeks later, in Shinshu..._

"Before anything else, before you say even _one_ word," Yahiko cautioned, his finger pointed steadfastly at Minoe, "please do tell me how you were able to survive that entire fleet of bats. I really am curious about that."

Minoe gave Yahiko a peaceful, sparkling smile that would have rivaled Soujiro's vacant one or Yutaro's flirty one. "Well, now! Let's not get too engrossed with the details, Yahiko-chi, or else we'll all grow old real fast! Hihihihihi!" Disturbingly enough, a pair of large batwings sprouted from either side of the eye-patched man's head, like something out of a horror story.

"AAAAH! A succubus! I mean, incubus! I mean, youkai!" Gan bellowed as he swung his big metal bat at an oblivious Minoe, scaring "Sanosuke" so badly that a haggard-looking Yahiko had to tiredly trudge forward to catch the frightened bird, unmindful of the chaos around him. "Patches has been possessed by mutant Mononoke-Oni hybrids! I'll save him by baking his brains with the heat of my fury!"

"GEEEH! What are you talking about, Gan-chi? Now _you're_ being mean to me for no good reason!" the one-eyed man cried as he stumbled away pitifully from the beefy thug's attacks, clumsily avoiding the wild, crater-generating bat swings by the hairbreadth as the batwings on his head flapped and fluttered about. "Huh? Hey! What are these things doing on my head? WAH! I've turned into a vampire!"

The large bat from a while back, which Minoe dubbed as "Kitsune-chi", revealed itself to everyone by crawling up from behind its target and biting his forehead. The pirate-looking man-child scrambled and scampered about in understandable alarm. Then, out of the crevices of the nearby trees and houses, a whole swarm of the hateful mammals emerged, engulfing their victim's face with acts of animalistic violence.

"OW! NOT NOW! THIS IS JUST SO RANDOM! WRRRRYYYYYYYYY!" Thud. There was an incredible jolt of pain, and then it all went dark.

Okay, so it wasn't completely dark. A moment later, Minoe could see light from the stars coming in through his haze of suffering, but these were considerably dimmer than the sea of pyrotechnics where his head was swimming in at the moment. He scratched his disheveled toupee. "Are they all gone now, Yahiko-chi-tachi?"

And everybody just _stared_.

"Eh?" Minoe spluttered. "What is it? More bats?"

"Um, hey... your wig is all crooked and stuff, and so is your eye patch. You ought to fix that," Yahiko pointed out quietly, handing the Sanosuke chicken back to Gan without taking his eyes off of Minoe. Gan received the bird in a similarly shocked manner.

"Ahehehehehe! Mochiron!" Minoe straightened his hairpiece and fixed his eyepiece, spreading large bits of perspiration, anxiety, and discomfited awkwardness all over the place. "Er, aren't you going to ask...?"

Gan and Yahiko both shook their heads and waved the matter off. "We don't want to get old real fast. Meaning: Screw the details, we just don't _want_ to know," confessed the latter.

"Ah, I see! Mochiron! Mochiron!" Minoe quipped, clapping giddily. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness and understanding, Yahiko-chi-tachi!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure, but can you _please_ stop it with the cutesy talk? Adding 'chi' to people's names and crying at the drop of a hat... Honestly! You're a grown man! That doesn't look right on a grown man! It's downright creepy, even!" Yahiko insisted as he worked himself up to a storm. He figured that since nearly everybody he'd met so far had gone through at least one fit of craziness, it was about time he filled in his allotted quota.

"Now, now, Yoshi-chi!" Gan mocked as he familiarly slung his arm over the younger man's shoulder the same way he did to Satoru earlier, "Stop crapping bricks about small things. We were just talking about you and your bad manners, short temper, and foul mouth. Being honest is great, but knowing when to shut your trap is a hell of a lot better!"

"I'm okay with that, but..." Yahiko conked Gan on the noggin. "Even when you're imitating Minoe, you still can't get my name right!"

Minoe giggled girlishly... not effeminately, girlishly... at the duo, which subsequently sent chills down their respective spines. "You guys are the best! I can just watch the both of you talk for days on end and never get tired of it. It almost makes me kind of glad that Gan-chi ate all of Raedo-sempai's meat buns. I would have never met you two otherwise!"

"Er, I'm glad you feel that way!" Gan crookedly smiled. "Say, since I've been having enough trouble with my tab with the Sakaguchis, I was kind of wondering if you could...?"

"No dice, Gan-chi." For an emotionally imbalanced and thin-skinned person, Minoe did a rather impressive deadpan.

"Come on! What happened to you was an Act of God, so I'm not liable for it in any way," Gan rationalized, putting his hands up in defense, which naturally led to the escape of his prized chicken. Yet, oddly enough, Sanosuke did no such thing. Instead, it flew right into Minoe's waiting arms.

Blinking in surprise, Minoe shook his head briefly as he took stock of his bearings. "Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Silly me. I was supposed to find out the chicken's true gender. My bad."

"Aho! Aho!" a couple of crows cackled as they perchance flew away from the nearby rooftops. Gan exhaled in relief, wiping his damp forehead. Meanwhile, Yahiko leaned on a nearby fence, using it as support to save himself from falling due to escalating aggravation.

'These guys defy all logic,' Yahiko hissed to himself. 'Well, at least we can finally identify whether Sanosuke's a rooster or... Like _hell_ we are! Minoe knows nothing about that!'

"So what name did you give to this fine bird?" Minoe asked Gan as he gently stroked the chicken's feathery mane. "You did name it, right?"

Gan grinned. "We sure did! We call him Sanosuke now! My prize-winning meal ticket should have a warrior's name, and you can't get more kick-ass than Harada Sanosuke!"

"Indeed! WAI! What a lovely name you have, Sano-chi," Minoe cheered for the chicken's sake, nose-kissing its beak before muttering a little too loudly, "You poor thing; having people wonder whether you're a girl or a boy. I know _ exactly_ how you feel."

The fence didn't save Yahiko from falling to the ground this time around. 'I knew it. More nonsense.' To Minoe, the Tokyo Samurai Descendant retorted, "Again, too much information. More importantly: FOCUS. Please. Just. Focus." He got up and dusted his hakama edgily.

"Spoilsport," Minoe pouted, then stuck his tongue out peevishly at the sweat-dropping Yahiko. From there, the toupee-wearing, buccaneer-like nonconformist started his discourse on the sexual orientation of ambiguously gendered fowls.

Munenori Minoe was a mysterious, if somewhat strange, man. Yahiko didn't think that the eye-patched eccentric was the kind of person who could solve such an unusual problem. Soujiro Seta smiled a lot. All three of the previous sentences were understatements.

In any case, the spiked-haired young man soon found Minoe to be a regular "philosopher" of sorts; not the good kind, even. Simply put, he was a man who explained his strange views with even stranger reasons.

For example, just now, Minoe revealed to them through his aimless tirade that he frowned upon cockfighting, much to Gan's dismay. Nevertheless, that was a fairly reasonable stance. Many people objected to the bloodsport, their reason being either that they thought it was too cruel or they thought gambling was bad.

Alas, neither of these was Minoe's reason. For him, cockfighting was a waste of time because it had been proven that one gamecock could beat another.

Yahiko was banging his head on a nearby tree at that point. "So," the boy with the candid tongue, thinning patience, and lack of etiquette stressed as he tried very hard not to give in to any of his bad inclinations, "is this chicken a male or a female?"

"That is a question that should concern only another chicken," Minoe replied.

Gan steadfastly held the berserker Yahiko back by grabbing onto both of his hands before they could reach Minoe's neck. "Easy, Yoshi-boy. Easy. Wipe that white froth off your mouth. Let's try a different approach this time, shall we?"

Once Yahiko calmed down a bit, Gan hazarded, "Look, Patches. Me and Yoshi-boy happen to take a special interest in this particular chicken."

"Special interest" meaning "cockfighting to pay the bills", of course, but the burly hooligan dared not reveal that to the animal-loving Minoe. "Please give us an answer. Just say 'yes' or 'no'. Is this a rooster?"

"It does not look like any rooster that I have ever seen," answered Minoe.

"So it's a hen, then," Yahiko concluded.

"It does not look like any hen that I have ever seen," was the reply.

Gan and Yahiko were dumbfounded. For a long while, they remained speechless. Then Minoe asked, "Have you ever seen an animal like this before?"

The both of them had to admit that they hadn't.

"Then how do you both know it's a chicken?"

"Well, what else could it be?" Yahiko asked in return with a touch of impatience.

"It could be another kind of bird."

"..."

And so Yahiko wordlessly took Sanosuke off of Minoe's hands and turned his back on him, moving away in the opposite direction. Gan, after recovering from his own thunderstruck astonishment, followed suit.

"Wait! Where are you two going? Yahiko-chi! Gan-chi! Come back!" Minoe sniveled as he melodramatically groveled on the two flabbergasted men's feet, grabbing onto the sleeves of their hakama for good measure. "My deduction was brilliant! Perfect! And yet you still go. You both think I'm a complete dunderhead, don't you? Well, it's been proven time and again that genius is always unappreciated when it's ahead of its time!"

Yahiko had had enough. Bad manners aside, unwarranted bluntness aside, and rudeness aside, he fumed, "No, 'genius'. We think you're a moron because you're incapable of learning, incapable of seeing reason, and incapable of discussing things in a give-and-take manner. All you do is throw a fit, pout, and spout nonsense. Then you cry foul when we call you on it. Sorry, but that's not our fault."

"How harsh! I was only trying to help," Minoe whimpered as he did the "scorned lover" posture, complete with outstretched hands and fluttering eyelids. Yahiko and Gan suppressed the urge to shiver. "You're being too cruel for your own good, Yahiko-chi! Don't you think so, Mister Gan-chi-chan-sama-taicho-sir?"

Even as an obsessive-compulsive maniac when it came to naming things, Gan had to draw the line somewhere and recoil at the flowery, honorific-laden appellation that Minoe gave him. "I'm sorry, Patches, but I have to agree with Yoshi-boy this time. You're nuts, and you're not coming along with us."

Minoe bit on his gi's collar and went teary eyed on Gan, to the latter's embarrassment. "How could you say that when it's _your_ fault that I'm in this situation in the first place? Had you not done that thing you did to me, sempai wouldn't have... I would have... I would have LIVED A HAPPIER LIFE! Give me back my happy days, GAN-CHIII!"

A couple of middle-aged mothers walking down the street looked at both Gan and Minoe suspiciously, then walked away, murmuring gossip. The eye-patched man was referring to Gan's meat bun thievery, of course, but to the casual observer, the outburst looked like another thing entirely.

Well, if begging didn't work, then outright guilt-tripping and highly inappropriate misinterpretations from strangers might help, Minoe reckoned.

"Fine! We'll let you go with us! Just don't do that disturbing thing you just did ever again!" The Exhausted Gan sighed in utter defeat. "Let's bring him along, Yoshi-boy."

Yahiko crossed his arms is disappointment. "Humph. I knew you'd say that. Wimp."

"So where are we going?" Minoe chirpily inquired, quickly recuperating from his recent crying fit in a way that induced Gan and Yahiko to grovel at _his_ feet for reasons other than begging.

"To Kamigoemon... Kamogawa... To Sanosuke's old man in Shinshu!" Boy, did Yahiko hate Sanosuke's father's given name.

"Bukurk?" Sanosuke the Wonder Chicken bucked at Yahiko in surprise.

Minoe nodded sagely as Gan did a double spit-take. "Of course! If we went and found Sano-chi's father, he'd tell us whether Sano-chi is his daughter or his son! Or maybe we should ask its mother instead?"

"THAT AIN'T IT! I'm talking about some other Sanosuke's father, okay?" Yahiko screamed, already having apprehensions about bringing the weird toupee-wearer along.

"So what would _another_ Sanosuke's father know about _our_ Sanosuke's gender? Honestly, Yoshi-boy. You're beginning to channel our one-eyed friend's stu..."

Gan choked upon seeing Minoe's puppy-dog eyes... or puppy-dog _eye_, as the case may be... aimed at him. "...Stupendous intellect. Yeah. Both of you geniuses are two of a kind. U-huh." The burly man suppressed a guffaw.

"Old man Higashidani may not be an ornithologist or your chicken's next of kin, but seeing the alternative, I'd rather take my chances with him than with either of you guys." Yahiko harrumphed, inwardly cringing.

'Let's do that, _or_ I could just go back to Tokyo and forget this improving myself crap, which is what any sane person would do. But now that I'm trapped in fools' company, logic has no place in my life anymore. Son of a bitch.'

* * *

_A few hours later, in Shinshu..._

While picking his nose, Gan idly remarked, "So we're going to take this rooster of mine to the family of a friend of yours, and they may or may not know what I already knew from the very start; that this here chicken is a rooster. And said family is apparently a bunch of cuckoos with an unpronounceable family name, a cantankerous old man that went through nearly every profession in existence, his overprotective dragon daughter that can give Kaori-neechan a run for her money, and a cripplingly timid, First Dan kendo boy that just happened to be studying under you. Huh. Small world."

Yahiko gave Gan a puzzled look as they continued to make their way into the dustier roads of Shinshu. "Why are you repeating everything we've talked about just now? Stop it already. It's irritating. If this were placed on a stage play right now, it would appear like a forced recap."

"Thank you for the forced recap, Gan-chi! I'm still a little lost on what we're supposed to do right now, so your speech was... Oh, the stars look pretty tonight!" Minoe twittered enthusiastically as he steadfastly held onto the legs of Sanosuke, Gan's ambiguously gendered chicken.

It still amazed Gan and Yahiko how often Minoe would innocently say those very same words after hearing Gan's constant needling/"recaps"; the effeminate man had an attention span that rivaled a pond koi's, they'd bet.

Gan snorted as he flicked the large snot off of his finger. "And Yoshi-boy's apparently annoyed at me for repeating what we've just been saying these past few hours or so while we walk straight for the dark, unlighted roads of Shinshu's ghetto... just because you've always been an irritable little prick."

"Mochiron," Minoe nodded in agreement, not helping the situation in any way.

"What, are you two picking a fight with me or something?" Yahiko snapped as he swung his cloth-wrapped-and-sheathed sword at Gan's head, which the latter deftly avoided with surprising dexterity.

The Tokyo Samurai Descendant had tried ignoring the burlier man's relentless goading, but knowing him... Well, to illustrate, the sixteen year old had been faithfully hitting Gan over the head so many times now that the hooligan could now see the strike coming from a kilometer away.

"I swear, if I weren't so hell-bent in improving my sword skills now that I've come of age, I wouldn't even be putting up with you two!"

"Whoa, really? You could have fooled me, dude!" Gan laughed. "'Come of age' my big, tight, hairy, beauty-marked butt!" Even the ever-clueless Minoe had to balk at the uncomfortable mental image.

"See here, Yoshi-boy. You keep trying to act all tough and mature for everyone to see, but you also keep on failing spectacularly in doing so! You're just like that Kaori chick from the soba shop, except of course you're a guy. You're both all bark and no bite when it comes to being mature, because you're both babies deep down inside! So let me just say that if you really want to commit to your genpuku thing, then get it over with in just one stab... trying too hard makes you look too insecure, and it'll leave too much of a bloody mess behind to boot."

Yahiko just looked blankly at Gan for a few moments before he, with the same deadpan expression on his face, successfully bonked the muscle-bound lout on the noggin by suppressing his malicious intent with sheer exasperation. "You're talking about _seppuku_, you dyslexic moron! Seppuku and genpuku don't mean the same thing!"

"Oh. There's a difference? Huh." Gan scratched his chin in reflection. "So tell me, which of the two does a person get forced to do all sorts of crazy things for the sake of honor: genpuku or seppuku? Or which of them means that, once you come of age, you slice your willy up or something? Wait, wait, wait; does genpuku, seppuku, and circumcision all mean the same thing?"

Yahiko simply palmed his face, offering no response. Obviously, Gan was making fun of him and his "Coming of Age" complex. Either that or the unbearable thug really was too stupid for words.

"Guys, we're here," Minoe announced decisively before Yahiko and Gan's argument about... well, basically nothing at all... escalated any further.

Minoe shouldn't have known where the trio was supposed to be going (this part of Shinshu was Yahiko's turf, after all), but he was helped out by the sudden and unexpected appearance of a largely unassuming yet strange little boy who was holding up a literal welcome mat... i.e., a thatched mat that had the word "welcome" stitched right onto it... above his head.

"Well, if it isn't my other favorite student, Outa! How's life treating you, kid?" Yahiko cheered his only other Kendo student aside from the scrawny, what's-his-face cop (and "Shinichi Kosaburo" was his name-o; so perhaps the "favorite student" comment applied more to Outa than the other guy, since Yahiko at least remembered the little boy's name... somewhat) as he familiarly ruffled the young child's head.

"Hey, everyone! This is the son of the old guy I was talking about... Outa Higa... Outa. Just Outa. Say hello to everyone, Outa-kun."

The twelve-year-old waved bashfully at the two strange men and mouthed a silent "Hello, nice to meet you," at them. With large, mortifying droplets of sweat falling on the back of their heads, Gan and Minoe weakly waved back.

"Um, does your little friend have laryngitis or something, Yahiko-chi?" Minoe dared to venture.

"Nope, he's always been like that." Yahiko scratched his own head and sighed. "Sure, Outa's way shyer than, say, Tsubame or even Sakaguchi Kyoko, but looks can be very deceiving. In a way, that makes him just like his big brother, Sanosuke: both don't look very tough at first glance, but they're surprisingly strong when push comes to shove."

The Son of Tokyo Samurai was mostly talking to himself, of course, for he knew that there was no way for him to convince his two motley compatriots of his justifications save for an actual demonstration.

"Well, whatever, Yoshi-boy. All I know is that he's the cutest little wimpy kid I've ever seen in my life! C'mere, you pansy! Come to Big Poppa Gan for a manly bear hug!" Gan gruffly offered as he spread his arms wide in what he thought was a friendly gesture and went straight for the wide-eyed little boy. Outa dropped his welcome mat just as soon as the large thug's shadow completely enveloped his diminutive form.

"Wait! Gan, you idiot! Don't scare him like that!" warned Yahiko a bit too late.

To fully understand and appreciate the events that soon followed, one should put oneself in Outa's sandals at the time. Already morbidly introverted around people in general, the mere presence of a scary, beefy, and hairy stranger was almost overwhelming to the poor boy's timidity from the get go.

Couple that with the fact that Kamishimoemon, his father, told him in explicit, disgusting, and unnecessary detail what some scary, beefy, and hairy strangers did to cute little wimpy boys like him (for the boy's own good, he reassured his overprotective daughter) sealed Gan's fate... and perhaps Gan's ability to father children as well, since this was the second time today he was felled by a low blow.

"Aw jeez, Gan! I told you not to scare that little tyke! The First Dan in Kendo may not sound much, but the Kamiya School has actually been holding Outa back several grades because he can seriously injure some of the older kids in the higher rankings because of his latent skill and chronic shyness!"

Yahiko then wagged a finger at Outa while lightly smacking the kid's wrist. "Don't just crotch people at the drop of a hat, Outa-kun. That's bad, and you should know better. Who could have taught you such a thing?"

Outa tilted his head at Yahiko in utter puzzlement and curiosity. The Forbidden Technique of "The Wrath of the End of the Era"... the crotching move that the boy used against Gan... was one of Yahiko Myojin's signature moves! How could his own teacher not know who it was that taught him that maneuver? How silly of him.

"YOU COULD AT LEAST SHOW A LI'L MORE SYMPATHY TO THE ONE WHO'S INJURED, YOSHI-BOY!" Gan complained at Yahiko's sandals, which was completely reasonable considering his present vantage point.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next:** The Higashidani Family.

_I have nothing significant to add here. Save, of course, that RY's moving along pretty decently after a nigh-decade hiatus. Wonders never cease and all that. Oh, and Yahiko's sense of "giri" (duty) and "nakama" (comradery) are the only things keeping him from running for the hills in regards to Gan and Minoe's zaniness. Any self-respecting anime fan (oxymoron?) knows about the Japanese sense of honor, right?_

**Salamat sa pagbabasa!_  
_**Abdiel


	9. Chapter 9

"The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it."

**(Arnold H. Glasgow)**

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

_It's time to "Flip the Bird of the End of the Era"._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

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**Chapter 9: The Peculiar Cockpit**

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Yahiko wagged a finger at Outa while lightly smacking the kid's wrist.

"YOU COULD AT LEAST SHOW A LI'L MORE SYMPATHY TO THE ONE WHO'S INJURED, YOSHI-BOY!" Gan complained at Yahiko's sandals, which was completely reasonable considering his present vantage point. "I was just trying to be sociable to the tyke, hugging him for friendliness's sake, but then he had the gall to kick me in the family jewels! And now he gets away with it with a literal slap on his wrist? WHERE THE HELL IS THE JUSTICE IN THAT?"

Yahiko rolled his eyes, sighed, grabbed Outa by the shoulders, then thrust the boy at Gan's direction. "Apologize to the man, Outa-kun. By the gods, I know Gan had that kick to the crotch coming to him, but I guess it's not his fault that he looked like a gigantic pedophile just a few minutes ago."

To himself, Yahiko mumbled, "Dammit, you shouldn't even know what a pedophile is, no thanks to your father," before continuing, "Go on, Outa-kun, say that you're so..."

"EEEEEKK!" Minoe shrieked girlishly as a raging banshee emerged from the depths of darkness.

"What's this I hear about rapists with a taste for little boys? Is this the guy who tried to violate my sweet little brother's innocence? How _dare_ you touch Outa, you disgusting, lecherous MONSTER! 'NO' MEANS 'NO', YOU PERVERT! NO TOUCHIE! NO TOUCHIE!"

A flurry of dustpan whacks, broom thrusts, and not-so-righteous-but-definitely-female indignation assaulted Gan's senses. The luckless thug felt more confused than hurt by the attacks, but somehow they still made him feel quite mortified about the whole situation. He hated being misunderstood and put out of the loop.

There was no other way for Yahiko to sum up the bored expression on his face after seeing Outa's big sister Uki other than the non-word, "Geh."

"Um, Yahiko-chi? Do you and that crazy young lady know each other or something? Because those furtive glances she's been giving you is kind of creepier than the enraged look she has trained on Gan-chi," Minoe anxiously surmised as he gently stroked and calmed the frightened Sanosuke chicken down, but Yahiko didn't seem to mind the one-eyed man's concerns... at least until he was forced to block Uki's sudden broom strike with his sheathed-and-wrapped-up sword.

"HEY! What's the big idea, hitting me with your broom? What did _I_ do to you, Triangle Head?" Yahiko asked... well, _confronted _the irate girl who indeed had her hair parted in such a way that her forehead looked like a triangle.

As a side note, Uki didn't even flinch or rise to Yahiko's usual temper-baiting insults _not_ because of her maturity but because, sad to say, she'd by then been desensitized of Yahiko's name-calling to the point of apathy.

Who could blame her, though? After hearing the infamous moniker from the foul-mouthed Tokyoite far too many times to count, it was only natural for her to not care; it can get real old fast. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for either Minoe or Gan.

"Triangle Head," murmured Minoe, slack-jawed in wonderment.

"She really is a triangle head, isn't she?" Gan agreed. "Nice one, Yoshi-boy!"

"What's the big idea? WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA? Okay, smartass! Answer me this," Uki fumed as she wielded her broom with a violent grace that would've made either Chizuru or Kaoru proud (and jealous). "Why didn't you _do_ anything to that big, scary pervert who tried to assault my little brother? And here I thought you stood for protecting the innocent, truth, justice, and all those other awesome stuff! If only my big brother can see you now...!"

"..." detailed the alleged pedophile, unwilling to quip, banter, or even get up from the ground lest he got whapped on the head with a broom again.

"Oh, for the love of... Are you kidding me? Didn't you know that it was your 'little' brother who's responsible for Gan's Roundhouse Falsetto? He needs as much protection as Sanosuke needs extra bandages!"

Outa tilted his head to the side in mute understanding. So that was the reason why Yahiko didn't recognize his rendition of "Wrath of the End of the Era"; he unwittingly did another move altogether! The little boy took note of this important factoid. Who knew that crotch-kicking was so complex and deep?

"WHAT? How'd you know this man's name? You're now hanging around with perverts, Yahiko? Say it isn't so! I mean, what would Sanosuke-niichan say once he finds out about this?"

"Bu-kurk?" clucked Sanosuke.

Yahiko's face immediately turned a frustrated scarlet for an assortment of reasons: namely, appearing like he was sticking up for the Goony Gan, the sheer inability of Uki to listen to reason when it came to Outa's well-being, and the fact that he inwardly agreed with Uki's assessment for the most part. Nonetheless, he had enough presence of mind to retort, "Yeah? Well you're an overprotective, triangle-headed shrill," in retaliation.

Okay, the term "presence of mind" was a bit of a stretch there. What was the resulting but fully expected aftermath to that tactless remark? A nigh-encore of Uki-styled "Roundhouse Falsetto", of course. As Uki attacked, she wondered what her version of the low blow's name should be: "Groin Pains" or "Tossed Salad and Scrambled Eggs"?

It was a good thing for Yahiko that his inner thigh was able to "block" the kick's trajectory. Okay, so that wasn't really a good (or smart) thing for him to do either, but considering what could've happened ("Testicles in the Left Ventricle," anyone?), it was a fortunate event for him all the same.

Anyhow, from "EEYOOWCH!" onwards, the sheer foulness of Yahiko's potty mouth unleashed a plethora of curses and expletives that reflected his street rat, yakuza background.

Minoe hit his fist onto his palm in dawning comprehension amidst the groans, grunts, and colorful language, unconsciously letting the prized Sanosuke chicken go. "Oh, I get it. Triangle Head!"

Gan finally mustered the courage to get up from his wretched prone position, only to cowardly suggest to the pained, sailor-lipped Yahiko, "Come on, Yoshi-boy! I don't know about you, but I'd rather face Kaori-neechan's wrath than go meet the rest of these crazies you call friends! I mean, if your chicken expert's _ children_ are like this, then I don't want to meet _him_ at all!"

"Don't you dare insult me, my brother, and my father in one sentence, you creepy child predator!" Uki shot back, her eyes shiftily darting back and forth from Outa to Gan, acting as a decoy of sorts while her little brother snuck up from behind the unwitting thug and prepared to launch a second "Wrath of the End of the Era" right into Gan's already damaged goods.

Minoe coughed primly and thrust his arms forward, presenting the Sanosuke chicken before Yahiko and the others just in the nick of time.

"Before we all forget ourselves in this overly friendly... romp of sorts, methinks it's about time we went inside and did what we were supposed to do. Right, Yahiko-chi? Gan-chi?"

And all of them just _stared_.

"Why are you holding your hands out like that?" one of the four... it didn't really matter who, but it most probably wasn't Outa... questioned the eccentric, wig-wearing man.

"Mochiron, it's Sanosuk... eh? Eh? EH? UWAAAA!" Minoe just realized, as noted before, that his hands were now empty and chicken-less. "Sano-chi has escaped from my grasp! He was here just a minute ago, I swear! Why do they always keep on leaving me behind? Help, Gan-chi! Yahiko-chi!"

"Eh? Sanosuke?" Uki gasped as Outa mouthed the familiar name, the siblings searching left and right for any sign of their long lost brother.

Henceforth, chaos ensued... if it hadn't been ensuing earlier already.

"You little brat! You were going to kick my nuts again, weren't you? Shit, I'm going to give you such a spanking that you wouldn't be able to sit down for weeks!"

"!"

"Leave my younger brother alone, pervert! Don't you dare lay one hand on his cute little butt!"

"..."

"..."

"Here Sano, Sano, Sano-chi... Ah! Kitsune-chi? What are you...? WAH! The bats! All the bats are back! OWIE! No, please... THIS IS JUST SO RANDOM!"

"Hey, Rooster or Hen Head, where are you?"

"Yahiko, I demand that you tell me where my big brother is and why you're calling him a Hen Head!"

"Just wait till I get my hands on you, you iiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMP...!"

"Wow, the big pedophile just screamed and whimpered like a girl. That... was moderately disturbing."

"WHAT THE BIG, FAT, FLYING BUDDHA IS GOING ON HERE? KAMI-SAMA-DAMMIT!"

From there on end, chaos just got its ass kicked care of Kamishimoemon Higashidani.

* * *

As soon as the imposing Kamishimoemon Higashidani, father of Sanosuke Sagara (nee Higashidani), woke up from all the commotion going on outside his home, checked out what was going on, found out what was going on, shouted his head off in unbridled rage, and administered suitable punishments for all of the culprits, Gan and Yahiko excused themselves briefly and re-caught his son's namesake... the loose, genderless chicken... and took it to the old man's "office" (which was just a fancy way of describing his futon space inside the rather Spartan Higashidani hut).

Even so, everyone had their equal share of the Higashidani Patriarch's unrestrained ire. Everyone. Yes, even his beloved children; because his kicking of their asses built their character, or so he claimed.

He made all of them kneel on individual mats of rock salt as penalty for disturbing his peace. Completely kowtowed, everyone waited silently for the middle-aged authoritarian's signal for them to begin talking and explaining the current state of affairs.

"Just for the record, I definitely like the Sakaguchis better than these Higashidani loons, Yoshi-boy," Gan clandestinely murmured to Yahiko's ear, but instantly went statue-still after Kamishimoemon directed an earnest glare at him.

"So, who are you two?" Kamishimoemon demanded, pointing a callused and rigid finger at the short, eye-patched man first, and then at the big, burly, and (as of that moment) falsetto-capable hoodlum second. "I've never seen you before."

"Uh, I'm Minoe Munenori, sir. It's so nice to meet you! Actually, I'm on..." Minoe meekly started, his head held low, but Kamishimoemon merely raised his hand to stop him from continuing any further.

"That's enough. And how about you, hooligan? Have I beaten you up before? Sorry, it's just that all thugs look alike to me."

Gan bowed curtly, thumped his chest, and declared, "Actually, I'm known in most fighting, gambling, and eating circles as the Great Gan, but my real name is...!"

Again, Kamishimoemon lifted his hand to disrupt the brutish ruffian's longwinded introduction. "Okay. That's all I needed to know." He turned towards Yahiko. "And what's this about, kid?" He pointed at the tied-up chicken sitting on his lap. "Explain quickly, because I want to get back to my nap as soon as possible, and I don't want this bird to make a mess in our hut."

"Uh, okay. Sure. Um, Mister Kamishi... Higashi... Er, can I just call you Higa-san, sir?" Yahiko politely asked.

Kamishimoemon shook his head. "Nope, you can't."

"How about...?" Minoe suggested.

"Uh-uh."

"Well then..." Gan ventured.

"Hell no."

"Then how about...!" Yahiko blinked, surprised that Kamishimoemon didn't interrupt him, which made him blurt out, "K-K-Kami-sama?" by accident. Yes, it was just another case of him being a smartass, but ironically...

"Okay. I approve," the alleged "Kami-sama" affirmed.

Groaning inwardly... aside from the joke's usual absurdity, Yahiko had already heard Kaoru _Kamiya_ use the same gag on him once before... the Tokyo Samurai sarcastically implored, "Oh, Kami-sama, we need your help. The reason I came here is..."

He took one look at Gan and Minoe, cringed as they waved back, and then continued, "Long story short, we're just here to find out if that there chicken is a hen or a rooster. That's it. It has something to do with this meathead's debt to a couple of folks back in Kamijo, and I'm not even completely sure why Minoe is here, but like I said, it's a long story."

"Yup, we're basically just here to find out the gender of Sano... Humph!" Minoe mumbled after Gan grabbed hold of the oblivious blabbermouth's tofu-hole.

While hunting for the escaped Sanosuke chicken earlier, Yahiko had warned the thug that they'd made the terrible faux pas of inadvertently naming the sex-confused bird after "Kami-sama's" only begotten son... besides Outa, of course. So they'd both agreed that any mention of that fact to Kamishimoemon must be avoided at all costs. Too bad nobody told Minoe about it, though.

It was also unfortunate that Uki chose that particular moment to _not_ be slow on the uptake in regards to the situation. The rambunctious girl quickly put two and two together and soon realized why her big brother's name kept popping up every time the genderless bird was nearby.

"What do you say, K-Kami-sama?" Yahiko blanched at the blasphemy his mouth was spouting out. "I've heard from Sano that you're quite the chicken expert back in the day. Maybe you can help us out with this dilemma of ours. Come on, my teaching of Outa the art of kendo has to count for something! Please, K-K-Kami... Mister Higashidani!"

Kamishimoemon actually did have some familiarity and know-how in poultry husbandry. He gained it during his stay in Hokkaido when he was just a young, up-and-coming yakuza thug competing in the underground gambling and cockfighting scene.

Sure, it was a questionable profession, and Kamishimoemon was never proud of that shadowy time in his life, but that was beside the point. Regardless, his previous line of work was also, no doubt, a fantastic way to gather a lot of important contacts in a short period of time.

As a result of his past experiences, the man with the hard-to-pronounce first and last name got to make a myriad of friends (and enemies) in the poultry industry. He even made friends with bigwigs who operated some of the largest egg farms in Japan. They were such good comrades that he was obliged to help his old buddies' businesses branch out, offering them a stake in the Shinshu marketplace.

These facts did beg the question, "Why were the Higashidanis living in squalor if they were so well off?" Well, just like his stubborn son, Kamishimoemon wasn't the kind of man who relied upon friends in high places to improve his lot in life. In fact, he hated sycophants who did just that the most.

"Kami-sama" eventually gave his blessing to Yahiko and his comrades with a shrug and a sigh. "Why not? I'm already awake anyway. Let's kill some time. What do you want me to do?"

"Hooray for Sano-chi!" Minoe celebrated after managing to take Gan's hand off his mouth by nearly biting it off.

"B-By 'Sano-chi', Patches meant... Sano Tsunetami. The Hakuaisha guy. Yeah. Hooray for the Red Cross Man!" Gan punned lamely after slamming Minoe's face straight into a spare mat filled with salt.

Amidst the "AH, IT BURNS!" cry of horror, a pink-faced Uki started to open her mouth to protest, but Kamishimoemon silenced her with a wave of his authoritative finger.

Alas, this was not enough to stop her or any other Higashidani, for it had always been in the Higashidani bloodline to be tooth-and-nail adamant whenever they focused upon an idea or matter of grave importance to them; each and every last one of them, actually.

This explained Sanosuke's utter hatred for the Meiji Government and his steadfast loyalty to the Sekihoutai, Uki's manic-obsessive, mother-hen protectiveness of her little brother Outa, Kamishimoemon's desire to always have the last say in any conversation, and Outa's determination to not speak at all if he could help it. They were, simply put, a family of really stubborn people.

"But Dad, they named that weird chicken after Sanosuke-niichan! Oh, and the big, hairy man is a child molester! He wanted to slap Outa's butt!" Uki complained, which made both Gan and Outa shift uncomfortably on their salted mats.

"Oh, give it a rest already, Cone Head... No offense meant to your beautiful daughter and her perfectly symmetrical hairdo, Mister Kami-sama!" Gan mouthed off, quickly backpedaling at the last minute after getting a sneak peek of a pissed-off "God".

"You can't possibly buy their cock-and-bull malarkey! It's a 'long story', indeed! I refuse to have Outa interacting with such bizarre and questionable characters! More to the point, it's high-time that he quit his silly little kendo classes in Tokyo and stayed home here with his loving family in Shinshu where he belongs! He couldn't possibly learn anything worthwhile from the likes of," Uki's upper lip curled to a sneer, "Myojin Yahiko."

"HEY!" Yahiko objected, but didn't say anything more than that. He'd had this debate with Uki in regards to Outa's decision to train and stay in the Kamiya Dojo for far too many times to count. To rekindle the flames of such an unwinnable argument would be an exercise in Pyrrhic futility. That, and Yahiko was sick and tired of coping with Uki's hardheadedness.

Sure, they had tried to compromise with one another time and time again, but as mentioned before, Uki simply couldn't be reasoned with when it came to Outa's safety. Yes, she was just looking out for her little brother, and of course she feels lonely and abandoned because her two insensitive siblings left her and her father in a huff to seek their own selfish fortunes, but still...

Nevertheless, Outa's rolling of his eyes just then revealed more about his feelings towards this messy situation than any acerbic retort from Yahiko would.

"Really? They've unwittingly named this chicken after my bird-brained, deadbeat son? That's HILARIOUS!" Through the miracle of hearing only what he wanted to hear... selective hearing, if you will... Kamishimoemon gleefully guffawed till he busted his gut, finding the whole naming situation uproariously entertaining for some unfathomable reason while ignoring the rest of Uki's complaints. "Why can't you tell this bird's gender, pray tell?"

"Um, it has both male and female characteristics, Mister Kami-sama sir," Gan sheepishly explained, bowing down and wringing his hands in browbeaten reverence.

After hearing that, Kamishimoemon exploded in side-splitting fits of uncontainable mirth. Once he recovered, he held the frightened chicken up to his nose and needled, "So much for your desperate attempts at machismo, Rooster Head! Or perhaps I should call you Hen Head now? It's funny because you have the waistline of a fourteen-year-old girl! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

'Is he still talking about the chicken, or about Sanosuke?' Yahiko wondered.

"But Dad...!" Uki whined, pouting petulantly.

"Oh, sweetheart. Like the big, fat pedophile said, you should give your worries a rest. Besides, it'll take more than a large, hairy cradle robber to take a Higashidani down! Outa is more than capable of handling himself," Kamishimoemon reassured Uki in the most un-reassuring way possible.

"Ah," Gan interjected in his defense.

"You're not going to let some big, overgrown muscle-head make you toss his salad, are you, kiddo?" Kamishimoemon confidently challenged Outa, affectionately ruffling his son's hair. Outa could only manage a crooked, tentative smile in response.

"I blame _you_ for this," Uki hissed at Yahiko. "You...!"

"Mister Higashidani," Yahiko hazarded, cutting Uki off, "is that chicken a hen or a rooster?"

Kamishimoemon looked at the bird curiously and then said, "Hmmm. I don't know. I couldn't tell with one look. I have never run across a biddy like this before, to tell you the truth."

"Is there any way you can tell?" Gan brusquely asked Kamishimoemon with a firmer, more daring tone than Yahiko's, his sudden adrenalin rush at the prospect of decisively affirming his prized chicken's male gender making him throw caution to the wind.

Kamishimoemon shrugged. "Why sure. No problem. Look at the feathers on its back. If the ends are round, then it's a she. If they're pointed, then it's a he."

Gan grinned from ear-to-ear and nudged Yahiko on the ribs. "It's better than trying to find out if the chicken has a pee-pee or a punani... Ain't that right, Yoshi-boy?"

Yahiko brushed the thug off. "Don't talk to me. Don't even touch me."

The five of them... Uki didn't want to have anything to do with the abnormal chicken... examined the bird's feathers closely. It had both!

"Hmm. Very peculiar," Kamishimoemon assessed. "How very peculiar indeed."

After helping Gan resist the urge to say something stupid like, "No shit, mister detective! I think you've just cracked the case!" by tossing salt right into the brute's eyes, Minoe courteously queried, "Is there any _other_ way you can tell Sano-chi's gender, Kami-sama-chi?"

"Well, I could kill it and examine its insides," Kamishimoemon obligingly suggested throughout Gan's screams of "My eyeballs are on fire! Wait, what...? Hey!"

Ergo, Minoe immediately grabbed "Sano-chi" out of Kamishimoemon's hands with the intention of escaping with the bird. His intentions never came to fruition though, thanks to Gan's untimely backhanded strike on the ninja-like man's face.

"No, I don't want that chicken killed! He's going to make me a fortune at the cockpits just as soon as I get proof that he's a he!" Gan cried out and sputtered after realizing what Kamishimoemon was suggesting.

Unfortunately, Gan was facing (and inadvertently scaring) Outa instead of Kamishimoemon because of his burning-red eyeballs and lack of depth perception. This, of course, incurred the implacable wrath of Uki, earning him a hard smack on the nose and cat scratches on his face.

"Oh, for God's sake, will you all please quiet down and stop the Manzai Standup Routine already? Because none of you are even from Osaka in the first place!" Yahiko snapped. 'These guys make the Juppon Gatana look like mundane, well-adjusted, and normal people!'

"Thank you for quieting those morons down for _my_ sake, Yahiko-kun," Kamishimoemon drolly quipped, much to Yahiko's growing chagrin. "Besides which, I was just joking! We don't need to cut your chicken up into broth-sized cubes or whatnot. I actually have a better idea in finding out your bird's sex... and it's through bird sex!"

Everybody just had to facefault after that. The utter cheesiness and lameness of Kamishimoemon's pun was just too much for most _anyone_ to bear.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but... what do you mean?" Yahiko questioned warily.

"Well, I have a couple of hens back in the yard that some of my old cockpit colleagues donated to me as thanks for letting them be part of the Shinshu Market. Not as many hens you'd see in an egg farm, but quite enough for my family to get by," Kamishimoemon explained, adding, "We can discover your chicken's gender by how it acts around the hens. It's that simple. If it begins copulating, then we have our answer!"

"Hmmm. Well, I guess that makes sense. Let's do it! It's only through the amazing powers of sex that we'll truly discover the answers to our universal questions!" came Gan's faux philosophical drivel, which prompted Uki to hastily cover Outa's innocent ears as she glowered at the thoughtless, insensitive, and perverted brute.

"What are you doing, Yahiko-chi?"

Yahiko, ever the smart aleck, followed Uki's lead and did the same thing to Minoe's naive and presumably virginal ears.

"For the record, Outa and I are _definitely_ sitting your silly little game out. Do whatever makes you happy, boys. Follow your perverted, disgusting dreams!" Uki announced in a huff, standing up from her kneeling position and dusting her knees off of salt. She afterwards called out, "Outa, it's time for bed."

Outa gave the four men a pitiful, puppy-dog stare before Uki forcefully led him off to his designated futon space in the smallish Higashidani residence.

"All right, then! To the sexy chicken yard!" Minoe marshaled, cheerfully pointing towards the yard despite his perspiring compatriots' collective expressions of vexation.

* * *

And so the quartet went onwards to the Higashidanis' backyard and put the strange "hen-cock" inside Kamishimoemon's miniature chicken pen... a cage that housed about six hens donated by the old codger's so-called breeder buddies. After which, they all quietly waited in the outer fringes of the hen house, observing the gender-bending bird's resulting reaction and subsequent behavior around the opposite/its own sex.

As time passed, it became obvious that none of those half-dozen chickens would even associate with the weird bird. Not only did they keep as far away from it as best they could, but they did not even seem to care to which gender it belonged. Unembarrassed by all this, Sanosuke chased and disgraced several pullets.

Kamishimoemon nodded in approval. "That's the Higashidani way, my boy! Man, if only my eldest had half your manliness, he'd be married by now."

"HA! I won the bet! All right! Banzai!" Gan exclaimed proudly, pumping his fist at the moonlit sky in celebration. "That should prove to you that Sano's a damn fine rooster; eh, Yoshi-boy?"

Minoe merely raised an eyebrow in apparent disapproval of Gan's gauche observation. "Oh really? So a rooster raping a couple of hens makes for a shining example of true manhood? Is that the way it works?"

"Er, mochiron?" came Gan's not-so-witty comeback as he awkwardly tugged at his collar in growing discomfort. "Why are you so mad anyway? Don't get your britches up in a bunch, Patches! The chickens are only having some harmless romance. Besides which, 'Sano-chi' just wants to prove to our mule-headed samurai boy that he's a man's man; a prizewinning rooster, at that!"

"It proves nothing of the sort," Yahiko adamantly insisted, his arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head in complete disagreement. "It only proves that Sanosuke has rooster instincts, but it could still be a hen."

"Oh, COME ON! Are you blind? What kind of bullshit is that, saying that my pedigree cock is a pussy? Blow it out your ass!" Gan at last flew off the handle, unwilling to take anymore of Yahiko's prejudiced and uncalled-for hardheadedness. "Come look and see for yourself, son; Sanosuke's rubbing himself all over those pullets like sandpaper in heat! Next you're going to tell me that I have a lesbian hen for a pet chicken!"

Yahiko shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. Why not?"

From there, an infuriated Gan screamed a sordid expletive at Yahiko, which Sanosuke quickly followed to the letter. For two hours straight. Not one hen was spared. By then, even the unusually standoffish Minoe became awestruck by the chicken's endurance and resiliency in its relentless bird-mating marathon.

"Man, look at him go! Now _that's_ a sex drive. Give our rooster a cigarette. Or better yet, let's blow some cigarette smoke over his butt so that he could perform better in his upcoming cockfight," Gan remarked, practically sneering at Yahiko in unremitting smugness. "So what excuse have you come up with this time, Yoshi-boy? I dare you to prove that my stud's a chick!"

"Only a woman knows how to satisfy a woman," an unperturbed Yahiko nonchalantly rationalized. "That hen of yours is simply butch enough to make an entire colony of chickens die out; that is, none of the hens would ever want to mate with a rooster after getting a taste of _that_ chick."

Completely stymied, Gan disputed Yahiko's statement, growling, "Okay, genius! Where's _your_ proof that Sano-kun's a hen, huh? At least I have something to back my claims up. What do you have? What makes you so sure that Sanosuke's a hen anyway? Eh?"

Yahiko rolled his eyes. "I don't know. But neither do you. Contrary to what you seem to believe, the simple fact that Sanosuke is harassing all those hens means that no conclusions can be drawn."

"YOU'RE UNBELIEVABLE, MAN! The proof is right in front of you, and you just ignore it! Sanosuke could be humping your leg at this very moment, and you still won't believe he's a rooster!"

"Well, yeah. If that bird were humping my leg, then I won't believe it's a rooster. Because I'll probably be thinking that it's a dog in a chicken suit, you dolt! What kind of bird humps people's legs, anyway?" Yahiko riposted acerbically.

"THAT'S IT! I've just had about enough of you and your bullshit, old man!" Gan snarled, unaware of his slip of the tongue as he cocked his closed fist threateningly at Yahiko to express his mounting aggravation. If he couldn't convince the Tokyoite street punk that Sanosuke was a rooster, then what more the Shinshu cockfighting officials? What a troublesome dilemma for Gan to experience indeed.

On his part, Yahiko merely raised a suspicious eyebrow. "...Old man?"

"Boys, boys, please!" Minoe butted in, interposing himself between the two enraged men while wagging his index finger in motherly admonishment. "Let's just calm ourselves down, forget about Sano-chi's unbecoming perverseness for a minute, and remember just why we're going through all this trouble of finding out whether that chicken is a boy or a girl anyway. You _do_ remember why we're doing this, right?"

Both Gan and Yahiko stared at Minoe blankly.

The eye-patched man resignedly sighed before elucidating, "Gan-chi owes the Sakaguchi Soba Shop money for all the food he'd eaten because he lost a bet in an eating contest with you, Yahiko-chi. He also owes me money for eating all of my sempai's meat buns. Don't even think I've forgotten about that, Gan-chi. In any event, Yahiko-chi and I chased and caught the fleeing Gan-chi, only to be introduced to Gan-chi's 'special baby', Sano-chi. Gan-chi alleges that Sano-chi will solve all of his financial debts by having it compete and win in a cockfight. But then Yahiko-chi points out that Sano-chi is a hen, so it can't compete in a cockfight... a henfight, maybe. Conversely, Gan-chi insists that Sano-chi is a rooster. Conflict ensues; and here we are now! Oh, and I've been inexplicably attacked by a horde of bats on three separate occasions. Do you have any questions so far? Did I miss anything?"

Gan rubbed his large, stubble-strewn lantern jaw contemplatively. "Oh yeah. Thanks, Patches."

Yahiko nodded his head slowly in dawning remembrance. "Nice catch, Minoe. We got carried away with the chicken gender thing."

During all this time, Sanosuke didn't even have the decency to let up with his romancing of the hens. Then, before any of the three unlikely comrades had a chance to complain, Kamishimoemon took the plumed and horny creature in his arms and announced, "Play time's over, boys. There's only one way for us to tell whether this bird is a rooster or a hen. We'll have to..."

"Dissect the chicken?"

"Wait for any of the eggs your hens will lay from now on to hatch into a bouncing baby bird?"

"Accept the fact that Sano-chi's a hermaphrodite without ostracizing the poor creature?"

"Shut up, you three stooges," the cantankerous Kamishimoemon barked as he conked the three men's noggins with seemingly practiced ease. Back in his hut, his two beloved children reflexively covered their heads, flinching.

"_Anyway_, what I had in mind is to have your genderless chicken compete in a preliminary cockfight match in the very bowels of the Shinshu Market. These matches are held in the 'bowels' of the market because cockfighting is a, shall we say, hush-hush business around these parts. At any rate, the match has to be made tonight. Tomorrow's no good, because tomorrow is Ass Wednesday. I kick ass on Ass Wednesday."

"That's fine by me, Kami-sama! Truth be told, that's what would've happened at the very beginning had Yoshi-boy not gotten in my way! The sooner we have Sanosuke competing in the cockfighting circuit, the better!" Gan corroborated as he gingerly patted the painful lump on his head. He then faced Yahiko and brazened out, "This is my ultimatum to you, Yoshi-boy; would you agree that Sanosuke is a rooster if he fights in a cockpit and then _wins_?"

"If this butch hen of yours can beat a gamecock, I would believe anything," Yahiko confirmed, unruffled by the ruffian's

superciliousness. "But if that doesn't happen, then 'Sano-chi' there is as good as chicken soup. Got it?"

Gan harrumphed. "I have no worries."

"It's settled, then. Now go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart," Kamishimoemon urged, which earned him oversold applause from three very sarcastic individuals. "Bite me, you fucking pieces of shit," he drawled afterwards.

* * *

_Hours later, on the way to the Shinshu Market..._

The moon was as the moon did; it glimmered brightly in the dark heavens. It glowed through wispy clouds, it got obstructed by puffy ones, and it ascended during dusk and set at dawn. Stable and banal, you could always count on this celestial body to act in a predictable manner.

Still, one could argue that perhaps the moonlight was just a _little_ redder over Shinshu that evening. Maybe it was the anticipation for that night's cockfighting tournament. Most likely, it was an atmospheric phenomenon that people during that time couldn't even begin to comprehend, but that point was moot.

Then again, perhaps it was the bloodthirsty mood it setup that had Sanosuke the chicken pondering his or her life and his or her circumstances as he or she got ready for what could be a massacre of epic proportions.

The entourage of Yahiko, Gan, Minoe, Kamishimoemon, and their strange, androgynous chicken trudged onward the unpaved moonlit road, making their way into the maze-like junctions of rice paddies while crows flew away in their wake. During all this time, both the frightened, gender-ambiguous bird and the trembling, gender-confused Minoe noticed the land around them becoming more lifeless, dreary, and ashen. With each passing yard, fewer vegetation grew on the ground.

Initially, it was the trees that gradually vanished. Then the shrubs and bushes followed suit. Ultimately, the lush fields of wheat and other miscellaneous crops that Nagano was known for gave way to a desolate, quarry-like landscape that sported only a few snatches of die-hard weeds here and there.

Add that to the fact that the darkness sucked out all the color from their surroundings, and it made for quite a foreboding sight. You could toss piles of skulls around the place and they would probably fit right in.

Yahiko and the gang worked their way around the limits of the village and out across the inhospitable panorama that bordered the grimy outskirts of Shinshu. The air in the area was strangely stale and moisture-free; just to prove that point, a fleeting gale from out of nowhere produced a swirl of dust that instantaneously covered their mouths with dirt. It now seemed as though their tongues were suddenly robbed of their saliva and caked with grime, which made them all feel filthy and bone dry from within. It wasn't a pleasant experience at all.

Minoe was so freaked out by the oddly thematic and ominous scenario that he briefly considered using his already forgotten ninjutsu skills... the ones that he had used to dubious effect during his introductory appearance... to save "Sano-chi" from a fate worse than (or at least roughly equivalent to) certain death.

Alas, he'd already forgotten his already forgotten ninjutsu skills along with his use of normal, non-baby-talk honorifics, so all seemed hopeless for both him and the fallacious fowl.

Then, before any of the four of them even realized it, the bustling Shinshu Wet Market was already in front of them. Even during that unholy hour, the various stalls and shops were still abuzz with excitement... obviously for reasons other than selling meat and vegetables, since it was already way past their closing time.

To cope with their mutual feelings of growing discomfort and distress, Gan decided to break the ice by bringing up something that'd been bothering him for quite a while now.

"Looks like Kami-sama has come up with the same conclusion as I have... that the only way to find out Sano-kun's true gender is through a brutal chicken brawl at the cockpits! Of course, this begs the question, 'Why did we need to consult with Kami-sama at all?' I myself could have told you the same thing without going through all that unnecessary trouble from the get go, Yoshi-boy!"

"Well, without consulting Kami-sama-chi, you probably wouldn't even have the chance to go inside the Shinshu cockpits at all, let alone have Sano-chi fight in it. Also, as I recall, the reason for this whole wild goose chase is because of your little bet against Yahiko-chi, correct? As such, whose money are you going to use to bet on Sano-chi during his or her fight, Gan-chi?" Minoe innocently pointed out in perturbing yet reasonable detail, much to Gan's teeth-grinding chagrin and Yahiko's own sheepish consternation ("sheepish" in the sense that he thought he should have figured out the same thing by himself).

"Er," Gan wisecracked. "N-Never mind that! You're missing the point! This cockfight isn't about food debts, chicken sex, and the root of all evil! This is about masculine honor, the unconquerable human spirit, and the courage of real men! To surpass your limits and kick logic's ass from here to Sunday; that's where it's at! Don't just believe in Sanosuke, believe in me! Believe in me, who believes in Sanosuke, who also believes in himself! Just shut up and believe, Patches; BELIEVE IT!"

Even the usually sharp-tongued Yahiko didn't know what to retort to that. However, an unmoved Minoe strangely countered, "Sure, but if all your friends were named Cliff, would you jump off them? I don't think so."

"..." everybody affirmed.

Yahiko's head was practically throbbing like a second heart at that point. "Minoe, that's enough; this back and forth of you making sense and not making sense is altering reality as we speak. As for you, Gan, it's painfully obvious to anybody paying attention that your needlessly elaborate plot is just a harebrained scheme you've concocted to confirm that you _do_ have a prized rooster in your hands before running away from all your debtors because you never had any intention of sharing your fine-feathered treasure with anyone else from the start."

Gan froze and squirmed, mostly because Yahiko's assertions hadn't merely hit close to home, but instead pinpointed each and every last flaw of his "brilliant" plan. "B-But I... B-But I...!"

Yahiko harrumphed and continued, "Simply put, give us all a break and spare us the drama. The jig is up. Also, if your answer for betting money is to borrow some from me, how about just politely asking me to lend you the money _that I've won from you from the get go _instead of going through all these pointless shenanigans, you dimwitted moron?"

"Maybe because that'd make too much sense? On the other hand, he could simply be _that_ stupid," Minoe helpfully suggested, which earned him an angry yet disturbing, "Okay, NOW JUST SHUT THE HELL UP, you dwarf-sized, one-eyed, purple-wearing cuckoo whom I feel strangely attracted to!" from a highly distraught Gan. The large man subsequently covered his mouth and whispered, "Whoops, did I say that last part out loud?"

With a strange, unreadable look on his face, Minoe distressingly stared at Gan for the longest time. "W-What?" the hoodlum sputtered as he backed away from the eye-patched man's line of sight.

Minoe seemed to wake up from his trance, blinked, then worriedly asked, "Whoops, did I say that out loud?"

"..." blabbered the dumbfounded Gan.

"Shut up, dumbasses. We're here," Kamishimoemon "Kami-sama" Higashidani announced with certain finality.

* * *

So, in the middle of Tuesday and Wednesday, just thirty minutes before midnight... during the time when the illegal but prevalent "pastime" of cockfighting (since it wasn't really a "sport" by any stretch of the imagination; a "bloodsport," maybe) unfurled its tengu wings inside the underbelly of the beastly Shinshu Market... Yahiko and company arrived in the murky battle arena, with the elder Higashidani acting as the motley crew's "backer" of sorts.

Kamishimoemon eventually led them to the hidden staircase leading to the inner sanctum of the Shinshu Market. It too, like everything else, was black. Yahiko began to wonder if it was supposed to be the actual color of the stairs or the effect of shadows engulfing them as midnight approached.

Anyhow, he and the rest of his companions loathed everything about this dark and dreary place, their instincts telling them to get away from there as quickly as they could. Even so, since instinct and logic rarely harmonized, they continued on with their capricious journey despite their growing reluctance.

As the group went further into the arid bowels of the Shinshu Market, the three supposed comrades... Yahiko, Gan, and Minoe... saw before them what appeared to be the most miserable scene they'd ever witnessed. The dumpy, squat, and bare stalls were all composed of thick blocks of stone and more stone. Everything, from the ground to the shifty people gathering about, seemed covered in gloom and darkness.

However, in stark contrast to the air outside the marketplace, the air inside was very humid and dank; one whiff was all it took to taste the foulness that emanated from this depressing place. As such, the quartet did their best to hold their breaths. These hidden parts of the Shinshu Market felt dirty and wrong to them on so many levels... a stark contrast to the idyllic, provincial feel of the rest of Nagano.

Even as Yahiko, Minoe, and Gan's collective senses reeled at the many things they were experiencing, someone suddenly moved towards them with a resolute stride. He revealed himself to be a gaunt man of about forty years or so of age that sported round, tinted spectacles, a chin curtain sans mustache, gloved hands, and a wardrobe that complemented the insidious decor of their immediate surroundings. Besides which, the man's methodical demeanor indicated that he knew how to take care of himself.

The three unwilling compatriots braced themselves as the stranger neared; after all, it was better to err on the side of caution than to regret things later on.

The man halted in front of the group, placed his hands underneath his outfit's sleeves, and bent down. "Higashidani-kun," he noted as he rose from his bow, his voice more gravelly than the ground they were stepping on.

Kamishimoemon nodded even after he came out of his own bow, coolly regarding the newcomer with a solemn look. "Oyakata-dono. It's been a while."

"Over a decade," the Oyakata acknowledged.

"You have some big balls coming out here of all places. Shouldn't you be somewhere else right now? It's very unbecoming for a person of your stature to mix with us peasants. Were you bored out of your wits while at work?" Kamishimoemon taunted the man he called "boss", his sarcastic little joke going over his younger cohorts' heads like a hapless kite in a raging storm.

"You can figure that out for yourself, I'm sure," the Oyakata tersely admitted or denied, as though he was already used to evading such offhanded queries with prior experience. He afterwards turned the tables on his supposed junior and queried, "What about you? What brings you here now of all times? I thought you've sworn off gambling."

Kamishimoemon pointed towards Sanosuke in a dramatic fashion, which startled Minoe so bad that he almost let go of the bird. "Well, I suddenly found myself on a betting mood ever since I've gotten a load of that chicken over there. It's a mighty fine pedigree if I do say so myself, though I'm not quite sure if it's even a rooster to begin with. Regardless, I'm willing to bet that our dark horse of sorts... more like 'blackbird', but you get the idea... will beat the current Ou Shamo champion so bad he'd be better off as a feather duster. As a matter of fact, I'm so confident that it'll win that I named it after my own son! What do you think?"

The Oyakata could only raise an unimpressed eyebrow. "If that's the case, then I'm betting on the champion."

"HA! I see that you still have your winning personality, as always." Kamishimoemon chuckled through grit teeth, grinning like a crazy shark.

The Oyakata smirked in kind, which somehow made Yahiko's spine tingle for some reason. "You as well, Higashidani-kun."

"Um... Kami-sa... er, Higashidani-chi?" Minoe warily ventured as he subtly voiced out his and the others' mutual feeling of concern over being left out of the conversation.

After which, Gan kicked subtlety out into the curb and declared, "The boys and I are feeling a bit out of place with all this ambiguous geezer talk and stuff. Can we please move your boring and vague conversation along so that we can get this cockfight over with sometime before the turn of the century?"

Kamishimoemon conked Gan on the head with his bare knuckles. "Shut your mouth and show some respect to your superiors, fool!" The middle-aged man proceeded to clear his throat. "Anyway, I forgot to introduce you to Oyakata-dono. This guy has sort of been my boss back in the day when I was still a rough-and-tumble goon-for-hire... hence his moniker. Oyakata-dono, these are the boys who brought me my fighting rooster-hen: the spiked-haired boy is Yahiko, the big bulging moron with the bandanna is Gan, and the meek, eye-patched man-child is Minoe. Boys, Oyakata-dono. Oyakata-dono, boys."

"I see," the Oyakata stated matter-of-factly before customarily bowing at the three comrades. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. Your name is Minoe, eh? Interesting name, kid."

Minoe seemed to squirm underneath his clothes... or even his own skin... in sheer discomfort. "Thank you, sir. I think it's an interesting name as well." Sanosuke ruffled his or her feathers aggressively; if it were a cat, it would have hissed at the creepy bearded man.

Gan blinked and did a double-take at Minoe, feeling as though the sharp glint in the submissive man's exposed eye didn't quite coincide with the rest of his body language, but quickly dismissed the supposed mixed signals as a trick of the light.

Meanwhile, the uncharacteristically silent Yahiko was currently looking over his shoulder in apparent worry, feeling as though something... or rather, someone... was spying on him; which as silly, because he barely knew any of the people around Shinshu save the Higashidanis and the Sakaguchis. Whichever the case, it caused him to feel a nauseating, anxious sensation in the pit of his stomach: a forewarning, almost. It was... mostly disconcerting, truth be told.

Also, his wounds from his previous fight to the death flared with a burning pain that was worse than before. Of course, their aches and sting had been bothering him from the start, but now the searing agony presented itself to the forefront of his consciousness, distracting him to the point of portentous madness...

"Yahiko-chi?"

"Hey, Yoshi-boy! What's the matter?"

Yahiko shook his head as if to clear it. "I thought I saw something in the corner of my eye." He rubbed his temples as he inwardly suppressed a shudder. "It's all right. It must have been my imagination. Shall we go, Kami-sama?"

The Oyakata raised an eyebrow at the name, then looked over the elder Higashidani's direction in askance. Kamishimoemon shrugged helplessly, a smug smile plastered on his mug. "'Kami-sama' is what I make Oyakata-dono's enemies call me as I pummeled them to submission back in the day. It's my version of 'Uncle' or 'Daddy', if you will," he explained at length to his associates, his self-satisfied grin never leaving his face.

"Should I even bother to look surprised?" Gan whispered to Minoe, who was strangely applauding Kamishimoemon's antics. The latter merely replied, "Clap if you want to live, Gan-chi!"

Of course, as per usual, Minoe's absentmindedness resulted in Sanosuke instinctively flapping away from his hands to a safer, less life-threatening place. To the chicken's chagrin, the Oyakata deftly caught it by its leathery feet in one swift movement.

"Can I join you in your little cockfight, Higashidani-kun?" the bearded man nonchalantly asked Kamishimoemon as he calmed the frightened rooster-hen down by gently stroking its feathered nape with one of his gloved hands. The chicken dared not instigate the Oyakata's wrath and froze in place. "Just to kill some time."

As Kamishimoemon considered his former employer's request, tapping his chin in a ham-fisted display of contemplation, Yahiko, Gan, and Minoe expressed their own opinion from behind the supposed boss's back by fervently shaking their heads from side to side. They then nearly choked on their own spit as the Oyakata turned towards them and casually commented, "Of course, I'll only go if it's all right with you three."

Because of the Japanese concepts of honne and tatemae, Yahiko and company had no choice but to lie and politely say, "No problem. Of course it's all right for you to come and join us. Please, go ahead," like the nice little boys that they were. They were screwed right from the moment the Oyakata decided to manipulate their ingrained politeness and obedience to a supposed superior or elder to his advantage.

Of course, Gan would've done away with such an arbitrary custom had he any say on the matter, but he was outvoted two to one, and he didn't want to embarrass himself by indulging in trivial arguments regarding faux pas, for "Saving Face" was another important Japanese custom.

Just for reference, honne symbolized the true feelings of an individual, which more often than not contradicted society's expectations or the requirements of one's status in life and societal standing. These honest, personal desires were usually kept hidden from everyone save for one's closest and dearest comrades. On the other hand, tatemae referred to the facade that people used to mask their honne. It was manifested as their public behavior and represented the expectations of their respective circumstances and community.

"Stupid Japanese hive mentality," Yahiko, Minoe, and Gan murmured to themselves in chorused irony. All the same, Minoe wordlessly picked up Sanosuke from the Oyakata's grasp before standing there and waiting for either Kamishimoemon or the Oyakata to lead the way towards the actual cockpits. Once the two old comrades started to move, Minoe and the others soon followed suit.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next:** It's cockfighting time.

_I took out a lot of material from the initial draft of this chapter mainly because it contained elements that was incongruous to the canon Kamishimoemon's personality._

**Maraming salamat po sa pagbabasa!_  
_**Abdiel


	10. Chapter 10

"If it cannot hatch from its shell, the chick will die without ever truly being born. We are the chick; the world is our egg. If we don't break the world's shell, we will die without truly being born. Smash the world's shell, for the Revolution of the World."

**(Utena Tenjou, Revolutionary Girl Utena)**

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

Chicken? Chicken.

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Peculiar Cockfight**

* * *

As they cut through the passages, Kamishimoemon began to speak. "What's the playing field look like nowadays? I haven't been keeping up with the cockfighting scene save for looking up who's the current champion from time to time."

"It's pretty dull compared to cockfighting in our day. The Ou Shamo species has slowly taken over the bloodsport ever since they've been imported from Siam. You can talk about your Shokoku and Kurokashiwa, but right now it's either you have an Ou Shamo or you're dead in the water," the Oyakata surmised at length, shrugging coolly as he took a pipe from underneath the folds of his wardrobe and lit it.

Kamishimoemon gave his old boss an incredulous look. "Oh, come on! Whatever happened to the Shokoku? They were quite the popular breed!"

"These days, Shokoku are now being raised mainly for their appearance. They're no better than peacocks in a zoo. In other words, you can get more money out of Shokoku by keeping them alive and _not_ letting them compete in the cockfighting circuit," the Oyakata replied glibly, puffs of secondhand smoke billowing from his mouth as though from a chimney, much to his ex-bodyguard's annoyance.

"Fine, fine. Patriotism doesn't necessarily extend to using native fowls in cockfights. Well, how about the Tomaru? They should fare a little better than the Shokoku, at least."

"Please. What makes you think that a crooner species is better than an ornamental one?" the Oyakata nonchalantly huffed with a raised eyebrow. As a side note, his little jibe was directed towards the fact that the Tomaru was well-known for its crows that last for twenty-five seconds. "They're barely tournament level, as expected of a rooster that's better off as an early morning sideshow attraction than a gamecock."

Kamishimoemon grumbled, "Okay, so that was a horrible example. But since you're putting the Ou Shamo breed on such a high pedestal, how about my old guard: the Shokoku-Shamo crossbreed, the Minohiki! I remember my own Minohiki back in the day. Man, Kirin sure let the blood and feathers fly when he was champion."

The Oyakata snorted, unimpressed. "How many Minohiki roosters do you see competing in the circuit these days? Granted, they can battle with the Ou Shamo because of their kingly blood, but theirs is a watered-down legacy."

"Are you kidding me? I've won quite a lot of cockfights and made a lot of money with my beloved Minohiki! If I remember correctly, he even made it all the way to the championships! King Shamo my ex-champion chicken's ass!"

The Oyakata calmly removed the pipe from his mouth and blew a stream of gray to his side. "Tell me, who was the one who killed your dear old Kirin?"

"That's not fair! HIS COUNTLESS WARS HAD OBVIOUSLY TAKEN THEIR TOLL ON HIM! His opponent then took advantage of the fact that he's a shell of his former self! Had he been at his prime, he would've ripped that Ou Shamo to shreds," Kamishimoemon complained defensively, grousing, "In any case, Kirin was really delicious as a stew."

"..." Yahiko, Gan, and Minoe were finally able to interject, if "interject" meant staring vacantly into space in uncomfortable silence while shuddering at Kamishimoemon's insensitiveness to Kirin's disastrous end.

"_Anyway_, you're downright loony to think that the overrated Ou Shamo can beat _every last cockfighting breed in Japan_. It's just not possible! For one thing, it couldn't possibly beat out the Onagadori!"

"The Onagadori's distribution is limited to the Kochi prefecture, and it's more of a decorative fowl than the Shokoku."

"How about the Koeyoshi?"

"Koeyoshi are mainly sold by racketeers to dupe unsuspecting patrons with fake Ou Shamo because of their remarkable resemblance to the superior chicken breed."

"Then surely, you're wrong about the Kurokashiwa...!"

"You're grasping at straws. That's just another ornamental breed. It only _looks_ dangerous with its black feathers and red wattles, but really isn't. That's all there is to it, Higashidani-kun."

"There are a lot more species of cock, y'know! There's the Chabo, the Ukokkei, the Ko Shamo..."

The Oyakata simply stared at his former employee with insouciant skepticism. Kamishimoemon sighed in defeat. The last three breeds he enumerated were all Japanese Bantam Fowls... small game that were hardly the type of chicken one would put in a competitive cockfight. "OH COME ON, OYAKATA-DONO! Is there no breed that the Ou Shamo can't beat?"

"There's another promising hybrid that's been making the rounds at present. The Satsumadori are extremely intelligent gamecocks known for their leaping style of attack. They're the kings in the Kagoshima and Miyazaki Prefectures that sport builds worthy of Texas Leghorns. Unfortunately, because of the fact that their Shokoku blood makes them good trophy breeds as well, the Ou Shamo is still the Champion of Nagano... no, the Japanese Cockpit, bar none."

"Uh-huh. And I bet those Shamo cocks you've been sucking up to also tastes great with teriyaki sauce." Ambiguous and crass innuendo aside, Sanosuke's father (as in Sanosuke Sagara; i.e., not the chicken) seemed ignorant, oblivious, or outright indifferent to the blank stares of sheer boredom that Yahiko, Gan, and even the ever-courteous Minoe directed at him. Even the winged Sanosuke seemed put off by the bland and trivial discourse concerning cockfighting breeds.

This was until Gan realized a rather important point. "Uh, well... It's not that I doubt Sanosuke's abilities and all, but Mister Oyakata-sama-dono-sir, when you say that the Ou Shamo dominates the underground cockfighting scene here in Nagano, does that mean that our Sano's next opponent is, by all intents and purposes, an Ou Shamo?"

Kamishimoemon scowled at Gan for his interruption. "Well, what do _you_ think, Obvious-taicho?"

"Wait, wait... An Ou Shamo? You're going to make a hen fight an Ou Shamo?" Yahiko carped at Gan, grabbing the larger man by his collar. "Then she's as good as dead meat! That's a rather hefty price to pay to make sure she's a hen that can cockfight! I suggest that we cut our losses from here on end and just give the Sakaguchis the damn turkey!"

"Chicken," Minoe helpfully pointed out.

"Whatever," Yahiko rebuffed.

Minoe blinked, beamed, and then piped up, "Speaking of which, I've been wondering: What _kind_ of breed is Sano-chi? I mean, we still don't know whether it's a hen or a rooster, but if it's a Shokoku or something, then at least it has a chance to win against its opponent, ornamental breed or not."

"I don't know what Higashidani-kun has told you, but if you have to ask, then I'd say it's a Ko Shamo," the Oyakata replied with a ghost of a smirk as Kamishimoemon cleared his throat and awkwardly looked away. "Small game. Small fry, if you will. It's not an ornamental breed, but... you get the picture."

"WHAT?" Yahiko exclaimed in outrage. "Okay, that's it! Give me Chicken Little right _now_, Gan! We are _so_ out of here! We're going to march straight back to the Sakaguchis right this instant before you turn your one chance at paying back your debts into bird paste!"

"I will definitely _not_ give up my cock, even if it is small!" Gan petulantly responded, blocking his "little cock" with his large arms and hands. "Patches, protect my cock with your body and keep it away from Yoshi-boy!"

"..." Minoe silently pondered as he hesitantly hugged Sanosuke to his bosom in confused panic.

"Wow. Nice segue," Yahiko remarked dryly, but he couldn't follow it up with anything else. He certainly couldn't retort, "Give it to me now, Gan," or "I'll be the one responsible for your cock, so hand it over," with any seriousness at that point.

At that moment, the Oyakata offhandedly mentioned, "Pitting a Ko Shamo against an Ou Shamo is actually the least of your worries. Since you've come in quite late in the game, you're probably entering your chicken in the Shinshu Market's daily squash match... meaning it's about time for the last few events, and in lieu of a legitimate tournament challenger for this season, your precious Sanosuke is going to act as a sacrificial lamb of sorts to one of the stronger regulars, even the champion himself." Although his tone didn't betray it, there was a subtext of gleefulness in the creepy old man's ominous warning.

Honne and tatemae or no, Yahiko and company (plus one livestock) glared at the Oyakata with extreme prejudice, a mixture of emotions ranging from mounting frustration to abject depression etched on their features. On his part, the Oyakata simply held up one hand in mock surrender while the other stayed on his pipe.

They all remained that way as they walked inside the cramped passages of the Shinshu Market's inner sanctum until they arrived at the hallway leading to the cockpits. There, Kamishimoemon had to pause to show one of the guards several papers. The beefed-up sentry gave the documents only a fleeting peek before waving the group through and allowing them to head up to the cockpits themselves.

In the middle of their somber procession, the Oyakata perfunctorily informed, "The audience will be malicious tonight. They're really thirsting for blood. This whole place is so dark and gloomy that it would probably make even a Zen monk's mood foul. Just expect everyone to start chanting a lot of 'Kill!' taunts when the fight actually starts."

"Okay then. Fine. We _get_ it. So what else does Sanosuke have to look forward to for tonight, Oyakata-dono? An Ou Shamo the size of a hawk?" Kamishimoemon mercifully rebutted before his boss's scare tactics went any further.

The Oyakata's demeanor, which had been consistently dull, sardonic, and cynical since he first approached Kamishimoemon's motley crew, abruptly became deadly serious. "Let's just say that I wouldn't want to be your chicken. Like I mentioned before, chances are, you'll get the main event... and you sure got it, judging from how large the gathered crowd is."

"Yeah, that's what I guessed." Kamishimoemon rubbed his stubbly chin contemplatively. "I wish that, even though it's already late, they would've at least gotten me an undercard match or even a mid-card match right before the main event. But since it's me, Kami-sama himself, the owner of the great, late, ex-champion Kirin who's now managing a topnotch cock-hen-chicken-thingy, then of course they'd give us the main event. It's only natural."

"Mochiron," Minoe couldn't help but blurt out, more for Sanosuke's sake than for the sake of Kamishimoemon's self-aggrandizement. "Sano-chi is going to kick butt and then some! Size doesn't matter! Kami-sama-chi probably has good reason for letting Sano-chi compete, and I believe in Kami-sama-chi's judgment!"

Kamishimoemon nodded sagely at Minoe's optimism, then chided his former employer, "Would you relax, boss? I get a bad feeling about the way you mentioned the main event thing, like you thought Sanosuke wouldn't win."

"He... or she... probably won't, even if it weren't a main event match. But for its sake, I hope it does," the Oyakata concluded forebodingly as he looked directly into Sanosuke's round, brown eyes. "Sadly, your chicken's opponent is a real killer; Nagano's reigning cockpit champion himself."

They all saw Kamishimoemon gasp and tense his muscles. "Suzaku, eh? I thought Sanosuke's going to fight some other gamecock. Has Suzaku become as bad as I've heard them say?"

"Depends on what you've heard, but probably yes. As of now, he's already gotten over seventy-seven victories and no losses, but he hasn't been allowed in the Kanto circuit yet since he'll be bad for business if he consistently murders roosters at this rate. A sure bet doesn't really rake in that much cash in a gambling circuit save for an upset."

"He'll be fighting for his life. Sanosuke will avenge Kirin by killing his killer," Kamishimoemon pledged somberly, clenching his fist in reminiscence of his late, great champion gamecock. Afterwards, his stomach rumbled.

"Oh Kirin, even in death, you truly were exceptionally scrumptious," the elder Higashidani related as he patted his abdomen in memory of the feast he had after Kirin's final fight... or rather, of the feast he made of Kirin after the fight.

Subsequently, Yahiko, Minoe, and Gan turned blue in revulsion at the implications of Kamishimoemon's cavalier statement. Nevertheless, it was a good thing that they gave no further thought into the disturbing idea, lest they realized that it wasn't the gamecocks but their owners who forced them into an inhumane bloodsport where they risked their lives for the entertainment of others, so swearing revenge upon the champion Suzaku for merely doing his job was a discordant moot point.

"No one wants to fight him," the Oyakata confirmed. "He's as fast as lightning; nearly unhittable. And he strikes hard, as your precious Kirin can attest. He is nearly always in heat as well, which makes him twice as aggressive as the average rooster. He'd father quite a lot of chicks after every fight, the horny stag."

"Yeah. He even has that thing of his where he gets up after he _does_ get struck or hit, like he has an unlimited amount of second winds or something," Kamishimoemon concurred. "Does he have any weaknesses that Sanosuke should know about?"

"Oh come now, Higashidani-kun. Have you already forgotten?" the Oyakata impishly chided. "It's the one good thing that came out of your Kirin's only loss in his illustrious career."

"Oh, so his left eye never healed from Kirin's desperation attack, eh? Serves him right for killing my gamecock!" Kamishimoemon smugly stated, which prompted the abovementioned realization of chicken and animal abuse to fully dawn upon Yahiko, Gan, and Minoe's consciences. It was not a pleasant epiphany.

The Oyakata chuckled sardonically. "Well, knowing irony, it's either your chicken will make use of that handicap or it won't figure into the battle at all." It wasn't exactly the most flattering of praises, but so was the fact that Sanosuke was a Ko Shamo. Fighting an Ou Shamo. A Champion Ou Shamo.

Gan was about to tell the Oyakata off, assuring everyone that Sanosuke would win regardless of whatever handicap or skill Suzaku possessed, when the curtain-bearded old man beat him to the punch and mused, "So this is the little hen that my Suzaku is supposed to be fighting. Interesting."

_That_ shook all four of them up. "W-What?" one of them managed to hazily ask. "_Your_ Suzaku?" yet another clarified as astonishment quickly turned into flabbergasted disbelief.

"I bought Suzaku a long time ago for a cheap price... right after his win against Kirin, in fact, when he suffered what could've been a career-ending injury... and built him up to become a real killer from there, despite only having one eye. He was named differently before, but that's not important."

The Oyakata understatedly chortled to himself. "You know how I am, Higashidani-kun... I fix broken things. I make them better. Most of all, I always guarantee that the odds are in my favor."

"You dirty old bastard," Kamishimoemon half-griped and half-chuckled in appreciation after recovering from his initial shock. "All this time, you were actually extolling the virtues of _your_ Ou Shamo while fishing for information regarding our own chicken. Once we've fallen into your trap, then you drop your bomb on us. Your modus operandi never changes, you snake in the grass."

"I've been accused of many things, old friend. Neither humility nor stupidity was ever one of them," the Oyakata admitted as he tapped the tip of his pipe on one of the soot-black walls and returned it inside the folds of his garments. "Shall we? We're already in the arena."

During all that time, Yahiko, Gan, and Minoe couldn't even get a word in edgewise. As Kamishimoemon had acknowledged, they were all duped hook, line, and sinker.

At that point, everyone in the group including the peculiar chicken saw the cockpits. All except the old guy with the overly long name and his former employer were so shocked with what they saw that their jaws dropped... even the bird's, although he/she/it didn't even have a jaw in the strictest sense of the word.

From a chicken's point of view, the arena was a huge thing, having about as much in common with normal cockpits as Hong Kong had with China; the concepts might have been similar, but the difference in size made it nearly impossible to make a general comparison. Of course, it also left quite an impression to all the non-chickens out there simply because the arena was big enough for two grown men to fight against each other. Cockfighting was proving itself to be serious business indeed.

This was no mere ditch, but a true battleground for chickens (even people, though it would be a bit cramped) to wage war against each other. One looping bamboo barrier six feet high formed a circle that surrounded the war zone. The large hole on the ground was at least a yard across and adequately deep. Numerous layers of strata could be seen as the various lines of rock marking the edges seemed to stretch without number to the bottom.

It seemed as though nothing less than the hand of one of the gods could've reached down, carved out the earth, and tossed it aside, though there was no rubble lining either side of the pit or the surface of the land. The amount of rock that had been removed could be viewed as ridiculously capricious to those not besotted by the animalistic bloodsport. To actually bother moving that much land for the sake of a silly yet brutal game of cockfighting was beyond the layman's ken.

On the pit itself were grains of white, possibly imported sand that belonged more to a beach than underneath a seedy gambling den. Gan posited that the sand was supposed to be reminiscent of the fight between Musashi Miyamoto and Kojiro Sasaki in the sandy beaches of Funajima. Conversely, Kamishimoemon smelled chicken shit in those comments; he knew enough about cockfighting to understand that the sand was used to make it easier to clean out bird carcasses from the cockpits.

A chicken's skeleton... which was put there soon after the foreboding place was built, Kamishimoemon assured Yahiko and the others... hung from one of the bamboo posts like a decoration. Rumors claim it was the remains of the first rooster ever killed within the Shinshu cockpits, and that the overzealous owner of his opponent skewered him there postmortem. Now it served as the signature piece of the secret lair. Such a grim backdrop chilled poor Sanosuke so much that he/she/it almost didn't notice the hawk-like champion flap around on the other side of the arena.

Yahiko himself was beyond speechless at the gratuitous elaborateness before him. There was too much irony and awesomeness in that one place for him to properly quip about it. For him, the chicken skeleton really took the cake when it came to satirical overkill.

After taking in the ambiance of the cockpits with a deep and long breath, Gan commented to Yahiko, "Ever get the feeling that you've completely forgotten the point of what you're doing? I'm getting that feeling right now, Yoshi-boy."

"Yeah. It's sad, but I know what you mean. We've definitely been had by that Oyakata character and then some. So even though your hen is as good as dead fighting that Suzaku Ou Shamo, I can't help but wish that Sano somehow ekes out a win anyway, just to give 'Oyakata-dono' his just desserts. Being played like some sort of biwa seriously pisses me off," Yahiko whispered back through grit teeth.

"I play the biwa, y'know," Gan informed, which made Yahiko's head drip many beads of sweaty consternation.

"Sometimes, I wonder why I talk to you," came the Son of Tokyo Samurai's rhetorical question.

"That's because you have nobody to talk to," Gan helpfully pointed out.

"Yes. And I'd still get better answers," Yahiko retorted.

"Don't patronize me," Gan sneered. "If you believe that the seat of wisdom is through a smartass mouth, then you truly are Buddha. But it's not, and I am. Basically, you're just using your hatred of the Oyakata as an excuse to root for Sanosuke, _who is sooo a rooster_ in the first place. So there," the beefy thug rationalized as Yahiko just shook his head in wordless incredulity.

"I have a theory regarding our sudden camaraderie, dear friends," Minoe interposed profoundly, much to the confusion of his so-called brethren. "It doesn't matter that any of us thinks I'm weird, Gan-chi's a bum, or Yahiko-chi has a stick up his butt, and whether one thinks Sano-chi is a hen, rooster, or a creature that deserves something better than the cruelty of man through bloodsport. We're all here because we hate each other so deeply, our partnership works. We're here because we've unconsciously decided to organize our animosities with each other in order to function together. Our comradeship is our way of collaborating and acting like a cohesive unit without really liking each other in the first place."

"Huh?" Yahiko sputtered, completely nonplussed in the dictionary sense of the word... as opposed to people using it in the presumed sense, equating the word to nonchalance... but Minoe went on unfettered.

"Mutual hatred can be a powerful thing, and our mutual hatred of Oyakata-dono-chi is a manifestation of this phenomenon. Simply put, we're here because we hate each other, but we're focusing that hate to something positive by being free to hate Oyakata-dono-chi _together_, which really is the only reason I can think of as to why we're all agreeing to send a chicken to its grave for the trivialities of gender, revenge, and money... aside from complete and utter stupidity, that is."

Gan and Yahiko looked at Minoe without expression for a long, long time before the larger man slung his arm over the sixteen-year-old boy's shoulder and whispered to him, "Patches is doing that thing he does again, Yoshi-boy."

"Let me go! We don't know each other, remember?" Yahiko rebuked.

"Hee! We're all so close now!" Minoe cheered heartily. "Our hatred has bonded us together like brothers! Hooray for hatred!"

"But Patches still has a point." Gan clenched his hands together and rubbed them in glee. "It looks like we're back on track. I think I get the point of this whole situation now. It's go time, Sano-kun! Let's prove to all the disbelievers your masculinity!" The hooligan pumped his fist up the unseen sky in a mindless display of brusqueness while Sanosuke could only look on at all three comrades in clueless bliss, unaware that he or she was about to become the victim of their silly notions of idealism.

Without further ado, the foursome resolutely had their hen/rooster/ chicken/whatnot placed into one of the cockpits and started making their bets. Even though Gan begged and begged, Yahiko could only give about less than a quarter of the money he won on their earlier food bet... about a meal's worth or so... on Sanosuke's behalf to the barker.

Meanwhile, the Oyakata and Kamishimoemon also placed their bets on their respective contenders. Naturally, since they were strapped for cash, neither Gan nor the errand-boy-turned-dubious-philosopher Minoe could place any sort of bet. From there, they took their places amongst the crowd and waited for the fight to commence.

Soon enough, the announcer introduced the combatants to the audience. Being an unknown that was more likely to be killed than to win, Sanosuke was only given a cursory introduction. On the other hand, the champion received a full speech, much to the tepid excitement of the crowd (for they all presumed that this was a one-sided fight with a rather predictable outcome). So much for the Oyakata's prediction of a murderous throng chanting, "Kill! Kill! Kill!" then.

"Presenting the champion: the most dangerous pedigree gamecock in all of Nagano. A ferocious warrior from the centuries-old bloodline of the Kings of Siam! An undefeated champion with seventy-seven victories to his name and seventy-seven kills in combat to his credit. He is known only as... SUZAKU THE IMPALER!"

Kamishimoemon recognized Sanosuke's opponent as a crafty veteran of the bloodsport who, as his name suggested, had several of his toughest opponents die care of him forcefully driving them into the spiked bamboo fence in the heat of battle, which was reminiscent of the legendary fight that resulted in a decorative chicken skeleton getting displayed inside the arena. Whether this was deliberate sabotage on his part, a ploy that his previous trainers had ingrained in him, or a continuous string of suspicious coincidences, skewering was nonetheless Suzaku's signature move.

Raising his flame-colored, serpentine head, the Ou Shamo eyed Sanosuke arrogantly and jiggled his sickle feathers. The action scared Gan, for even he knew that when a gamecock was in a breeding mood, it had double its ferocity.

It was as though Suzaku were seeking vengeance over the scar he got on his eye because of Kirin's "determination" to keep his crown; which was silly, because chickens didn't care for such things as retribution and pride... Did they?

All the same, the infamous Ou Shamo was also known as a chanticleer that had once escaped to the forest and lured all the hens away from the surrounding farms of Shinshu... a Pied Piper of Poultry, apparently. Indeed, this complex bird was quite an enchanting yet dangerous character for mere livestock, albeit being _prizewinning_ livestock.

Then the fight began. Both birds charged right at the center of the cockpit. The Ou Shamo scratched the ground as if it were digging a grave for his opponent. Moments later, the two fighters faced each other.

Seeing Sanosuke confronted by Suzaku, Gan found his mouth begin to dry up at the size of the large cock, the prospect of losing his potential moneymaker because of yet another silly bet daunting him so bad that he missed the not-so-subtle sexual connotations of the earlier parts of this sentence.

Quickly, Gan pushed his lamentations aside with a headshake. Both his father and some girl he met in Kyoto whom he didn't quite remember at the moment echoed repeatedly the need to keep one's opponent from having the psychological edge, otherwise the battle would be as good as over. Of course, the point was moot because it was _Sanosuke's_ opponent that had a mental edge over him, but what the hell; whatever worked best for him.

For their part, the grizzled veterans Kamishimoemon and the Oyakata put on emotionless masks of perfect indifference and detachment as they observed the proceedings unfold with concealed, methodical interest and clinical analysis.

Sanosuke watched curiously as the crowd collectively bent down closer to the pit and roared loudly enough to shake the venue, their earlier lackadaisical attitude completely fading once the promise of violence and bloodshed entered the fray.

Certainly, their cheers were at least ten times louder than the shouts they'd given during the introduction. Small wonder, considering that the Oyakata had already warned the Higashidani troop that Suzaku was a vicious killing machine that murdered his opponents in cold blood. The crowd obviously loved every second of those brutal matches, as evidenced by their current enthusiasm.

Much to Yahiko's surprise, the audience's choosing of Suzaku over Sanosuke didn't disrupt the latter's composure. As the seconds ticked by, the ambiguously gendered chicken found itself ignoring the distracting noises and focusing all of its attention on the one thing that mattered: defeating its opponent.

Meanwhile, Minoe was on the edge of his nonexistent seat (okay, on the tips of his bandaged toes) in horror and "mother hen" concern, prompting him to apply his own Zen-like method to overcome his panic.

Straightening his wig... er, hair and eye patch, it took a moment for him to find his elusive center of calm within his psyche. After he got there, his entire outlook changed. With a sort of peacefulness falling over him, Minoe steeled himself and watched the fight without even blinking once... which was a fairly good idea, seeing what had happened next.

Suzaku loomed over Sanosuke, his wings spread out in full, as though he were a doting grandfather coming forward to embrace his favorite little grandchild. In short, it was a ludicrous stance that left him vulnerable for all sorts of attacks and counterattacks, but Sanosuke didn't charge at all.

Suzaku impatiently rushed at Sanosuke, and the peculiar chicken evaded him rather than seize the opportunity to attack. A second charge procured the exact same results on the challenger's part, though he or she found it hard to desist from taking advantage of the offered opening. The audience started to let their contempt for such craven tactics be recognized as they jeered and catcalled his or her seeming cowardice.

Looking at Sanosuke's performance, Yahiko expected their chicken to keel over and die of fright in the middle of the ring. Instead, a very odd thing happened. A lovesick expression came into the supposed impaler's eyes. It afterwards did a love dance. Naturally, this was a most surprising development to one and all, but particularly to those who had stakes on the Ou Shamo rooster.

It was evident that Suzaku was thoroughly infatuated with Sanosuke, and that any attention he had for the moment was strictly amatory. But before anyone could realize what happened next, the androgynous fowl assaulted the pining stag with its hackle feathers flaring. In one lunge, it buried its spur into its adversary's breast. Just like that, the fight was over. The sentencer raised the chicken in token victory.

"..." and "Eyng...?" were the general sentiments of the gathered multitude... Yahiko, Gan, Kamishimoemon, and Minoe included. Even the imperturbable Oyakata seemed mildly surprised by the outcome. However, once the horde of stunned gamblers recovered their wits and let groupthink settle in, they started shouting, "Fixed fight! Fixed fight! Boo! Kill! Kill! KILL!"

That was when the riot broke out. People tore the bamboo decorations apart and used them as clubs. Kamishimoemon grinned in an idiotic, hot-blooded sort of way that reminded Yahiko of another, more familiar Sanosuke. "It looks like Ass Wednesday has come early this week! Ass as in ass-kicking, that is!" the rowdy old man shouted before proceeding to beat the ever-living crap out of the nearest people in the angry mob.

Just as a wave of enraged, mindless humanity threatened to surround, engulf, overwhelm, and overwhelm some more Gan, Yahiko, and Minoe... the ensuing chaos acting like a tidal wave of fists, blood, tears, bamboo poles, and broken dreams... the Oyakata grabbed Yahiko's shoulder and yelled, "Get both of your friends together and follow me out of here if you want to see another sunrise!"

With that said, the Tokyo Samurai immediately grabbed Gan... no, wait, he changed his mind and grabbed Minoe by the arm instead, and motioned the eye-patched man to do the same to Gan. In kind, the dejected hooligan tucked his controversial chicken under an arm.

After they formed themselves into a makeshift human-chicken chain of sorts, the Oyakata gingerly led them out of pandemonium and into the ponderously hidden hallway that lead to a convenient backdoor. Alas, several rabble-rousers noticed their attempt at escape and were soon hot on their trails.

They then sprinted towards the nearest bamboo grove and kept on running until they lost their pursuers. Somehow, in the middle of bedlam, they'd also lost the Oyakata, but the trio were too preoccupied with thoughts of their own survival to look for the intolerable, caustic man that somehow served as their savior of sorts.

As soon as they felt safe, they all sat on the ground and rested. They were all panting like dogs. "_Now_ are you convinced it's a rooster?" Gan muttered in between breaths.

"Yeah," Yahiko reluctantly answered. He was glad that the whole thing was over, but Sanosuke had other ideas. It flew out of Gan's arm and into the spiked-haired boy's hand. Then it began to tremble. Something round and warm dropped onto the Tokyo Samurai's hand. The chicken cackled with laughter. He looked down and saw... an egg!

"Oh, don't cry, Yoshi-boy. Is that a tear?" Gan cooed as he moved to wipe the quivering Yahiko's eyes.

"It is now," Yahiko reeled, squinted, and covered his face after Gan nearly poked his eye out due to good-intentioned carelessness.

'The Sakaguchis aren't going to like this,' Gan thought as he stared slack-jawed at the egg, then blanched as something else occurred to him. 'More importantly, _she_ isn't going to like this.'

* * *

_The morning after... or rather, just a few hours later, after Gan and Minoe got some restless sleep underneath a bridge before unwillingly setting out to the Sakaguchi restaurant to conclusively face the music..._

"You're not going to like this..." Minoe meekly fretted, his feet sheepishly shuffling on the ground as he held fast onto the peculiar (and possibly hermaphrodite) chicken, but Chizuru Raikouji kept interrupting him with an upraised finger and a dismissive "Up-pup-pup!" rejoinder every time he tried to issue his apologetic statement. She only stopped once he himself relented; she didn't want to hear any of his pathetic excuses.

"I don't want to hear any of it. No offense, but I don't even _know_ you or have any idea why you're persistently tailing around Yahiko and... that big, overgrown mass of stupidity. You don't really 'figure in' the whole scenario at all, Minoe... san," Chizuru clarified bluntly, her tone just a little less cross than her arms.

Behind Chizuru, a timid Kyoko Sakaguchi, an even more intimidated Nonoko Sakaguchi, and a touchy-feely-to-his-wife's-bottom Satoru Sakaguchi all stood behind the Raikouji granddaughter in a small Congo line long before the dance gained any sort of worldwide notoriety. The Sakaguchis were unwittingly innovative for a typical Japanese family composed of a policeman husband, a noodle vendor housewife, and a martial artist daughter. In turn, Gan himself was cowering behind Minoe while avoiding "Kaori-neesan's" accusing stares.

"More importantly, I'd like to know _where the hell Yahiko is_ in the first place! Why did he send a lightweight like you to be the bearer of news... most likely bad... anyway?" Chizuru continued, giving Minoe her permission for him to talk.

"W-Well, last night, he told us to go and explain to you and the Sakaguchis what had happened, which was quite selfish and rude of him to do, let me tell you! He also kind of had to go somewhere and pick up several people who've helped us confirm whether Sano-chi is a hen or a rooster by helping it participate in a cockfight of sorts. That... brings us to another lovely topic. Ahehe. We were supposed to get a lot of money after Sano-chi won his cockfight... probably enough to cover Gan-chi's debt... but..."

"Okay, enough," Chizuru snapped, making Minoe trail off as she revoked her aforementioned blessing for him to speak; which was a good thing, since the one-eyed man didn't even know where to begin explaining the cockpit fiasco without further incurring her wrath.

From there, the Kaoru look-alike tapped her foot and targeted her blistering, fiery eyes at the Cowering Gan. "_You_. It's you who should own up to your mistakes! Come out from under Minoe-san's skirt and explain yourself, fatso!"

Gan practically withered under Chizuru's accusing stare. "HEY! Shouldn't I talk to the Sakaguchis instead of you, Kaori-neechan? I mean, I owe money from _them_, not you!"

"Oh, don't mind us, Bandit-san. Although I don't usually approve of Chizuru-kun sticking her nose into other people's business, I'll let her off the hook this time around; because by golly, she sure gets the job done! I figure we'll get the money you owe us faster if we let her do all the talking. Right, honey?" candidly endorsed Satoru, of all people, as he held his hands fast upon his wife for moral support, among other reasons. And other places.

"R-Right, s-sure. Yes. Oh my goodness...! Um, please dear! This isn't the right place... I mean, d-don't you agree with your father, Kyoko?" a flustered and red-faced Nonoko concurred while whispering half-hearted protests to her husband's shifty antics.

"Uh, yeah," Kyoko mumbled as she warily looked at her parents' awkward and not-so-subtle attempts at amorousness in discomfort. The "Ew, gross!" variety of discomfort. She'd noticed that she'd been getting a lot of those these past few days.

"_Anyway_, I'd like to ask you a few questions, Gan-kun. These are simple 'yes or no' questions; you don't have to journalize your answers or anything. Okay? Good," Chizuru tersely stated before the thuggish man could even give his dissent or assent. "First question: Do you have the money to pay back your hefty tab to the Sakaguchis or not?"

"W-eeeeeeeell... Not exactly, Kaori-neechan. I...!" Gan felt numerous Chizuru "eye daggers" pierce deep into his very soul, causing him to reflexively flinch, tremble, and cower in fear. Had Yahiko been there, he would've noted that Chizuru had unconsciously learned how to project her fighting spirit... or self-righteous indignation for other people's problems... in a rudimentary "Shin no Ippo" or "Sword-ki blast" manner. As such, the intimidated hooligan had no other recourse than to plainly say, "No," due to the Raikouji granddaughter's psychological bullying.

"Strike one," Chizuru drawled as she began making a noose out of some rope she found at the back of the restaurant earlier. Gan started to sweat again, but more out of worry than mortification. "Second question: Were you by any chance gambling last night with that damned genderless chicken of yours instead of looking for money to pay your tab?"

"But I was gambling for the tab!" Gan whined, but it had as much of an impact on his argument as the age-old "But he started it!" line of reasoning during a heated quarrel between siblings. "Well, actually, it's more for the sake of finding out if Sanosuke's a rooster or a hen, but it had a secondary 'May or may not pay my food bill' intent along with it... I'm digging my own grave here, aren't I?"

"No, no. We're playing 'hangman' right now. We'll only play 'dig your own grave' once we're through with 'hangman'. Now, if you'd kindly step outside near that nice, tall tree at the front yard, we can get this game over with," Chizuru sweetly assured as she swung her lasso around merrily.

"I'm sorry, but I'm allergic to lynching. Now if you'll excuse... YOSHI-BOY! GET BACK HERE AND TALK SOME SENSE INTO YOUR CRAZY GIRLFRIEND!" Gan ultimately let out as he scrambled for the front door, unable to bear Chizuru's guilt-tripping and mind games any longer. Incidentally, this was the instant when Yahiko arrived.

"I'm back! What did I miss?" the sixteen-year-old teen announced as he thumped his way into the lively soba shop.

* * *

_Earlier, at a quarter past midnight, inside the volatile Shinshu cockpits after Sanosuke's unlikely triumph against the champion gamecock Suzaku..._

"ENOUGH!" the Oyakata bellowed authoritatively after he got back from helping Yahiko and company escape from the frothing mob after them. Consequently, the chaos that was once the Shinshu cockpits immediately went to a screeching halt. Every single rioter and troublemaker stopped in the middle of whatever it was they were doing, whether it as clubbing a man to nigh-death or throwing a meaty punch at someone's hapless, puffed-up face. This made for quite the bizarre scenario... or a fairly impressive Ukiyo-e painting, depending on your personal taste and mental stability.

Actually, the only man who didn't stop pummeling people to submission after the Oyakata's order to desist was Kamishimoemon Higashidani. "So where's your Kami-sama now, bitch? Here's a big hint: I'M your fucking KAMI-SAMA! SWEAR to ME! Why are you hitting yourself? Why the fuck are you hitting yourself? Why are you fucking yourself up?" the grizzled old veteran brawler mocked with puerile delight as he used his victim's own limp arm to beat him senseless. It took him quite a while to notice the cockpits' dead silence and myriad of incredulous stares on his person. "What? I'm just celebrating Ass Wednesday. I want to kick ass. Is that too much to ask? Leave me alone."

"They get the point, Higashidani-kun," the Oyakata guaranteed as he put his gloved hand over his former bodyguard's shoulder and moved him away from his prey, thus saving a man's life. "A win is a win. Despite all my machinations, Suzaku has been defeated, may he rest in peace."

To the rest of the murmuring crowd, he announced, "This wasn't a fixed fight. My Ou Shamo has lost this contest fair and square; the loss is beyond contestation. Sure, his opponent used questionable tactics in order to gain this dubious victory, but there's nothing in the rulebooks that deems his... or _ her_, as Suzaku would probably attest... actions and very _presence _in the pits as illegal. As far as I'm concerned, this business is over. To those who saw this coming and bet accordingly, congratulations to you. To all others, better luck next time. You'll all get your money by tomorrow or the day after that, once everything here has been sorted out. Good night, gentlemen."

Then, with a snap of the Oyakata's gloved fingers, the huge and beefy sentries guarding the inner arena earlier started ushering the dazed and confused would-be mob out of the sanctum in single file. Soon, only Kamishimoemon and the Oyakata were left inside the Shinshu cockpits, the latter getting his refill of tobacco from one of his hired goons.

"That was awfully big of you, Oyakata-dono," Kamishimoemon observed with no small amount of disbelief. "What gives? Knowing you, there's bound to be some sort of hidden agenda behind this. Don't bother explaining your convoluted plans to me... I can never figure them out, then and now... just come clean and tell me if there's a hidden agenda."

"These were very unusual circumstances. That's all I can say," the Oyakata admitted with a definite smirk on his face... not a ghost of a smile or a hint of a grin, but a definite smirk.

Wistfully, as he lit his pipe, he asked, "How long has it been, Higashidani-kun? A decade? Twenty years? This is the first time in a long while since I've wrongly predicted an outcome. I mean, it's not like I've become clairvoyant or anything, but this is the first time my forecast has failed so spectacularly. I have an inkling feeling that there are some forces at work here beyond my control, but that chicken... no, those boys of yours seem to be the very definition of wildcards. Pitting my Suzaku against your Sanosuke wasn't even a calculated risk, but look at what happened anyway. What a fascinating case indeed."

Kamishimoemon rubbed his throbbing temples with his fingers as the onset of a psychosomatic, philosophy-induced headache quickly became far too much for even a tough guy like him to bear. "I told you to spare me the details, boss! Dear Buddha in Nirvana, but you're over-thinking things! The chances that those boys' chicken would win against your gamecock was a crapshoot, nothing more. They probably didn't even have anything to do with the win at all. They're just trying to find out the gender of their chicken. Shit, for someone so methodical, I would never have pegged you to believe in things like bad luck."

"Nonsense. It's because I'm methodical that I believe in luck... I'll do everything that I can to eliminate luck out of the equation, but humans can only manipulate probability so far. I'm just amazed that luck was still able to make itself a factor today. Anything that's as inexplicable and uncontrollable as luck, chaos, human nature, and the so-called force known as fate is of boundless interest to me," the Oyakata concluded in between puffs from his pipe.

"Says the guy who just lost a sack of yen because your gamecock was too horny," Kamishimoemon wisecracked as he leaned against the uneven bamboo wall behind him and started wiping his bleeding knuckles on his shirt. The bloody riot beforehand was a real barnburner even by his standards, but the Oyakata's exasperatingly pedantic ramblings somehow hurt his head far worse than a bamboo pole to the skull would.

The curtain-bearded man snorted disdainfully at his ex-protector's droll statement, expelling gray rings of tobacco smoke that floated in front of his face. "Don't be silly. I bet on both Suzaku and your chicken. I broke even, give or take a hundred yen."

"How typical. So that's your way of 'controlling luck', eh? Well then, what's your problem? Or rather, why are you getting philosophical and shit all of a sudden?" Kamishimoemon challenged, his tone gradually turning grave as he made his concern for his old friend be known. "You _are_ aware that those crazy Battousai-themed terrorists are still out to get you. What were you thinking? Like I've said before, even with all your henchmen present, you've got a lot of balls coming here."

The Oyakata emptied his pipe over the bloodstained cockpit before looking straight into Kamishimoemon's incredulous eyes and replying, "You've heard me say this before, and you probably won't believe me when I say it now, but this is all part of the plan. I got a kick out of seeing a carefully crafted prediction of mine crumble to dust because I see that failure as an opportunity of sorts. Never mind the trivialities of gambling; this is bigger than that. This strange event has left me questioning the limits of my little 'methodologies' and beliefs; are they strong enough to withstand, even control, probability itself? Well, even though people say only God can do such things, I say they simply don't know how."

"All part of the plan, eh? That's crazy talk. I've known you for more than twenty years, and you and me both know that you regularly pull shit out of your ass as you go along your diabolical plans." Kamishimoemon could only shake his head and look away in response to the Oyakata's ostentatious claims. "Goddammit, Akahori-dono; only God knows what's going on in that twisted mind of yours, but he's too scared to look."

* * *

_A little later..._

"Kami-sama? Oyakata-dono? Where are you?" a kabuto-wearing Yahiko stage-whispered to the darkness as he traveled through the blackened alleyways of the Shinshu Market in growing vexation instead of concern... the sheer silliness of the nicknames that Kamishimoemon and his old boss gave themselves was starting to get on his nerves after the twentieth time he'd used them.

Therefore, as he shuffled quietly in the shadows while keeping an eye out for any of the rioters that was still out for blood, he griped, "Where did those two geezers go?" to himself.

As if on cue, Yahiko heard soft footsteps from behind the grove where he and the others hid from the angry mob of cockpit gamblers earlier. The sixteen year old turned around and braced himself for anything, half-expecting to see a throng of bamboo-wielding rabble-rousers ready to pounce on him at a moment's notice.

Instead, in the blink of an eye, the smiling silhouette of a handsome young man came forth and startled the hell out of the edgy Tokyo Samurai Descendant, who reacted in a manner reminiscent of when he first met Chizuru, "the long-lost Kamiya sibling".

The eerie phantom was soon in front of Yahiko, chuckling amiably underneath the pale moonlight. After taking a nice, long look at the newcomer, the spiked-haired young lad went stiff as a board, his bandaged injuries from three weeks before flaring like they were on fire.

"Good evening, Yahiko-san. What brings you out here in the Shinshu Market?" Soujiro Seta greeted congenially, his hand grasping the stopwatch that arguably saved Yahiko's life in their momentous battle.

Yahiko considered pinching himself, but that would've been silly of him. Instead, he held the handle of the sakabatou tightly and readied himself for anything. "I was just about to ask the same thing, Psycho-Kid," he spat the moniker out like poison. The chilling presence he felt a while back inside the Shinshu Market's underground cockpits came from Soujiro all along.

"You really shouldn't be traveling yet... not in the shape you're in. Then again, you've healed up quite soon and quite well. I'm impressed," the older boy appraised as he surveyed Yahiko's bandaged yet otherwise healthy frame. Well, healthy for someone who'd almost been cut up like sashimi.

Yahiko was caught off-guard by the affableness of Soujiro the first time he encountered him, but since then, he'd learned his lesson the hard way. The unassuming pretty boy might not have massacred the entirety of the fake Battousai group, but he was obviously not above taking human lives at will, as evidenced by his coldhearted execution of Keisuke... the false terrorist faction's leader... and his association with the Juppon Gatana.

"What are you doing here?" Yahiko reiterated his unsaid question straightforwardly as he kept a "safe" distance away from the superior swordsman.

He didn't bother trying to sound tough or intimidating in front of Soujiro; that'd be the rough equivalent of a yelping Spitz trying to scare off a Doberman, he reckoned. Granted, this was a seemingly friendly and playful Doberman, but one that could rip your throat out or bite your jugular in a heartbeat.

"Well, if you really must know, I'm still working at my job right now... kind of," the impish Soujiro clarified just short of wagging his finger and declaring the purpose of his being there a secret. "The hours aren't so good, but the pay is okay."

Yahiko's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to decipher Soujiro's indistinct and vaguely condescending explanation. Eventually, he came up with, "You're working as a callboy or something?" as though he suddenly had a death wish just then. Fortunately, Soujiro looked unaffected by the thoughtless remark, much to Yahiko's relief.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next:** Money matters.

_The decade-long writing process of this story has its respective ups and downs. For one thing, I can go back and fix plot points at will even before I "publish" my chapters. Then again, it constitutes double the work. Anyhow, the middle portions of this fic pays homage to DB Sommer's "Path of the Warrior" series. I've also placed some "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" quotes in a couple of chapters._

**Maraming salamat po sa pagbabasa!_  
_**Abdiel


	11. Chapter 11

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

_Payback: This time, it's for real. Oh, and I hereby dub this the "true" flashback chapter._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 11: The Peculiar Cocktail**

* * *

_Last midnight, just outside the perilous Shinshu cockpits, after the demented horde of cockfighting fanatics had already dissipated... _

"What are you doing here?" Yahiko bluntly reiterated the question Soujiro posed to him earlier as he kept his distance from the insane and imbalanced swordsman.

In the short time Yahiko had known Soujiro, he could never make heads or tails out of the mysterious older boy's actions or intentions, as though the Ten Ken was the logical extreme of the concepts of honne and tatemae. 'What lies behind your mask? An angel or a devil?'

"Well, if you really must know, I'm still at work right now... kind of," Soujiro explained mischievously. "The hours aren't so good, but the pay is okay."

Yahiko's nostrils flared as he tried to interpret Soujiro's vague and patronizing answer. In the end, he came up with an out-of-the-blue, "You're working as a callboy or something?"

Though he didn't intend his query to appear as a joking insult at the ex-Heaven Sword's expense, Yahiko had somehow unconsciously combined Gan's raunchy wordplay and Minoe's non-sequiturs in his attempt to extract more information from the superior swordsman; either that, or he was just being an insufferable prick.

Had Soujiro been a lesser man, he would've sputtered and protested at Yahiko's crass allegations. Fortunately, thanks to his traumatic experiences as one of Shishio's elite army of assassins and mass murderers... as well as his mostly unhinged mind... he possessed a rather bizarre sense of humor.

At any rate, he chortled happily at Yahiko's jibe, much to the younger boy's chagrin. "You're a funny guy, Yahiko-san. Fine, I give. No more playing around. I'm here because I'm waiting for my boss. He went here on a whim, so I acted as his escort. He should be about done with his business by this time."

Though the information Soujiro provided was still a bit on the ambiguous side, Yahiko now had something to work with. "Y-Your boss? Wait, your boss has something to do with the false Battousai Group's complete massacre, doesn't he? I mean, he has to be involved in this, o-or else you wouldn't have bothered to snoop around the camp of those doppelganger terrorists three weeks ago!"

Being an unapologetically lesser man than, say, the svelte and dignified Soujiro, Yahiko sputtered, stuttered, and stammered his way throughout his "interrogation" of the older man in embarrassing fashion. However, he felt that his deductions were dead-on for the most part.

"I know that you killed Keisuke merely for Kyoko's sake and someone else killed the rest of his gang, but what bothers me is why a group of lowly criminals would call themselves the 'Battousai Group' anyway, especially considering the public death threats that the _real_ Battousai Group has made," the sixteen year old deduced before adding, "This smells like a trap setup by your boss. Is it...?"

Soujiro shrugged, his features as forthcoming as when he first entered Yahiko's line of sight earlier. "For your information, I had to mercy-kill Keisuke-san because he was the only survivor of the false Battousai Group's massacre." Yahiko winced at the memory of Keisuke's head rolling on the ground like a wig-wearing watermelon. "The person or people who attacked the entire troop actually castrated Keisuke-san for some reason."

Yahiko didn't know that little tidbit. What an odd thing for the Battousai-looking assassin to do to a mere copycat band of smalltime crooks. Were they cultists of some sort? 'No, no. They were sending a message; a message to Psycho-Kid's boss.'

In any case, the Tokyo Samurai Descendant quickly realized that he was getting off-topic. "So your boss set the fake Battousai Group up as a trap of sorts to smoke the real Battousai Group out, but the genuine article got away scot-free and left a grisly souvenir for him to boot. What does your boss think of all this? What exactly are Akahori's stalkers trying to say?"

"Wow. You actually figured things out. And here I thought you were preparing to proverbially hang yourself on a noose with some of your more dubious deductions," Soujiro candidly yet smilingly assessed. "Well, if you really want to know what Akahori-san thinks about that topic, then how about you ask him yourself? He's already coming this way."

Yahiko turned and subsequently got his first non-shock of the early morn; it was a "non-shock" because he'd already had suspicions regarding the improbable coincidence headed towards him as his conversation with Soujiro drew on. The man who'd just come out of the cockpits was both the person whom Yahiko was looking for and the dignitary whom Soujiro was guarding.

"Ah, there you are, Seta-kun. Good. It's time for us to go," the Oyakata beckoned to Soujiro before spotting Yahiko. The bespectacled old man then addressed the Son of Tokyo Samurai, stating, "Oh, it's you. You came back. Well, if you're looking for Higashidani-kun, you just missed him; he's already left for his home. But if you go now, you might still be able to catch him."

"No, that's quite all right, Mister Akahori," Yahiko reassured the Oyakata with a casual wave of his hand. "However, you yourself really should be going back to your mansion or wherever; if Shishio Makoto's own right-hand man couldn't catch the real Battousai Group in action, then I'd be more worried about them if I were you. Your life is still in peril even as we speak." Yet again, the teenager acted like a real smug smartass after making his recent discovery.

Nonetheless, despite the sixteen year old's supposed bombshell, Tetsuo Akahori didn't even miss a beat as he asked Soujiro, "Is he a friend of yours, Seta-kun?" By friend, of course, he meant "former enemy that was within your fighting caliber" or even "former fellow Juppon Gatana member".

In turn, Soujiro giggled gaily at Akahori's loaded question. "He's _that_ person, Akahori-san. The other prodigy I talked to you about, the one that I fought in the East Valley's forest of bamboo groves... Himura-san's prodigy, so to speak."

"Ah, so he is." Akahori nodded once, lowered his tinted spectacles and, for the first time since they'd met, gave Yahiko a _real_ good look, his scrutiny bordering on a full-body inspection with clothes on plus a wordless cross-examination of sorts.

What were the chances that the charge of Kenshin Kamiya (nee Himura) himself, the original Hitokiri Battousai, was the same vindictive, foul-mouthed, irritable, yet proud youngster he'd met just minutes ago? What a turn of events this was! But then again, Shinshushin was a small town, so the chances for this happening were greater than they would seem.

The middle-aged politician's eyes wandered towards the cloth-wrapped sword that Soujiro reported to be a reverse-edged katana, which prompted him to think, 'So Battousai's influence on the boy extended right down to his accessories.'

Even with all of Yahiko's inborn sass, skepticism, and insolence, Kenshin's impact on him was still quite apparent. Sticking with two intolerably eccentric characters through thick and thin because his sense of duty urged him to instill responsibility upon at least one of them _and_ fighting a superior opponent for the sake of a girl's troubled feelings were actions that had the earmarks of naive rurouni idealism all over them, whether the boy was aware of it or not.

More importantly, something else about Yahiko intrigued Akahori. He'd remembered overhearing the boy and his friends' backtalk about him in the arena. Why was this significant? Well, sure, it'd be ridiculous to attribute their "camaraderie through hatred" and "the power of friendship against tyranny" as anything more than the asinine musings of bitter youngsters.

On the other hand, like a butterfly whose gentle wing flaps were able to alter the course of a raging storm, the trio's determination to figure out their androgynous chicken's gender led to the inauspicious downfall of the luckless, amorous Suzaku.

Sanosuke was somehow able to strike down the infatuated and wide-open Suzaku even though it looked downright scared to death right before the match. Through a series of unconnected and inopportune events, the peculiar chicken was swept up by twisting winds created from Yahiko's petty malice, Minoe's relatively good intentions, Kamishimoemon's boredom, Akahori's scheming, and Gan's stupidity and greed.

This was the notion of determinism in action, otherwise known as "fate", "destiny", "karma", and "luck" to the more superstitious masses.

Just then, Akahori had an epiphany. What if he found a way to harness probability, even random probability, to his advantage? Not exactly control it at will, like some sort of mythological deity with magical powers, but more of influence it by identifying the root cause of chaos... the butterfly that averted the storm.

It was a novel concept that the intellectuals would scoff and laugh at, the religious would call blasphemy, and the layman would call insane, but Akahori saw himself as way ahead of these simpletons and fools in terms of understanding the inner workings of nature.

As such, it was then and there that Tetsuo Akahori decided to make Yahiko Myojin and his comrades a factor in the equation that was his impending assassination. "Can I interest you in a little proposition, Myojin-kun?"

* * *

_The next morning, in the town of Shinshu, after Gan and Minoe went straight inside the kitchen of the Sakaguchis' soba shop, the peculiar chicken in tow..._

"Okay, I'm back! What did I miss?" an out-of-breath and eye-bagged Yahiko announced as he sashayed his way into the bustling restaurant. From what he could see, the others had already started their mock trial of the Great Big Idiot Gan, with Chizuru acting as judge, jury, and executioner of the whole proceedings.

Still, she was more of a judge and executioner than the jury, what with jury duty being nonexistent during that particular timeframe (plus, any future attempt at incorporating jury duty into the Japanese justice system was met with apathy and disapproval).

"YOSHI-BOY! Get your crazy-ass girlfriend away from me! Please, if you have any sense of decency left in you at all, then you'd stop her from harassing me or coming anywhere near _me_!" Gan pathetically pleaded as he went on all fours and begged the Tokyo Samurai for some respite. He was even doing that lip trembling thing that the seven-year-old Kenji was so fond of; on him, it simply looked revolting.

"Buck up, Gan! You only reap what you sow." Yahiko bent down and patted the groveling thug on the shoulder as the rest of the people in the room nodded in joint agreement. Gan glared in kind at his so-called comrade's betrayal before the latter stuck his tongue out in response. Undoubtedly, there was no love lost between Gan and Yahiko.

"About time you came back," said the girl whom Yahiko viewed as Nagano's Kaoru stand-in, complete with the penchant to hide her concern in such a way that it could easily be misunderstood as irritation. Either that, or she really was feeling annoyed at the time; one could never tell from combative yet well-meaning girls like Kaoru Kamiya or Chizuru Raikouji.

"So? What's the plan now? Gan still owes the restaurant a hefty five yen. I say we make Gan do manual labor or something until he pays off all his food debts. Or until the whole police precinct that's acting as some dumb politician's escorts goes back to work so we can have brainless here arrested. On the other hand, he could just pay for his crimes through some street justice; that's always a popular choice for criminals of his ilk."

Yahiko scratched the side of his cheek ponderously at the Kaoru-look-alike's suggestions, feeling as though she were making too big a deal of Gan's debt dilemma.

Hell, Sanosuke Sagara (the man, the myth, the legend, and not Gan's androgynous fowl) pulled this sort of crap all the time on Tae Sekihara and the Akabeko, and he never suffered from _this_ sort of backlash. Just because Gan looked like the bastard child of a warthog and a pirate didn't mean that he should suffer more for relatively the same crime as Sanosuke.

Gan even started trying to make amends for his sins in his own misguided way by attempting to resolve his gambling debt using a rooster he'd just found to _ gamble some more_. Sure, he tricked Yahiko into a betting contest, and yes, the trouble that the big lug caused the recently injured sixteen-year-old was not worth the effort, _and_ they were nearly mauled by a hate-filled mob _ because_ of that damned hen-cock, not to mention the fact that Gan hit Yahiko with a large fish... "Y'know what, Chizuru? Screw it. Let's just lynch him."

Chizuru nodded in curt affirmation as she lassoed Gan's neck with the noose she'd just prepared.

"YOSHI-BOY!" Gan beseeched a second time to Yahiko during the moment when the boy expected the hooligan to either make a run for it or try to make his last stand then and there. This had the Tokyoite thinking... Gan wasn't acting like the conceited jerk-ass punk Keisuke was when he was alive, even though the goon could _play_ the part thanks to his thuggish appearance.

Mostly, this monster of a man was silently accepting his punishment... well, not silently, and definitely not willingly, but he wasn't trying to muscle his way out of this quandary he'd created either. Yahiko just had to at least give him credit for that.

"Okay, wait. On second thought, let's not hang him," Yahiko decided after much deliberation... as in a _lot_ of deliberation, to Gan's chagrin. "There's a better way of handling this situation... um, obviously. No hanging. I was kidding earlier. Really."

Chizuru shrugged as she used the rope she had on Gan to hogtie the enormous yet emasculated brute. "I'm way ahead of you, Yahiko. I'll just borrow the Sakaguchi family sword 'Fuyutsuki' while we all force Gan to disembowel himself with a kitchen knife. At least then he'll still have his honor intact."

All the rest of the people in the room started to edge away from the Raikouji granddaughter because of her macabre and extreme proposal, but she didn't even seem to notice.

"No, NO! I don't what to commit genpuku!" Gan whined as he struggled and, rather easily, broke through his binds with a simple flex of his muscles. Chizuru recoiled in surprise.

"Seppuku, Gan-chi," Minoe calmly corrected.

"Whatever!" At that point, Gan was truly prepared to bolt, his supposed sense of honor and shame be damned. Not that Yahiko could blame the man for doing so... certainly not at that moment. Regardless, the Son of Tokyo Samurai had to act fast.

"No. Just... no. Enough. I'll... I'll be the one to pay the tab," Yahiko declared sullenly, as though he'd just lost a bet or something.

"W-What?" Gan sputtered as he did a double-take and a triple-take. He rubbed his eyes as though he were dreaming. Yahiko Myojin... the person who jinxed his otherwise successful food bet, the one who opposed Sanosuke's eventual and rather successful entry into the cockpit scene because he thought he/she/it was a hen, and the boy who kept on shooting down each and every last idea the hooligan had ever made since the time they met... had just bailed him out. "W-Why are you doing this?"

Through grit teeth, Yahiko elucidated, "I... l-lost our bet. You were right about Sanosuke as far as cockfighting is concerned. If she, er, _he_ can win a cockfight, then that makes _him_ a rooster," Apparently, Yahiko _ did_ lose a bet.

In the background, Satoru excitedly ventured, "So that makes the chicken an Onnako, doesn't it? A rooster that looks like a hen? Guess that means you owe me one, my Tamamo-no-Mae!"

"You're still fixated on that, dear?" Nonoko queried with a rather girlish pout for a woman with a seventeen-year-old daughter. It was so saccharine sweet that it compelled her husband to forget about their debate.

Minoe tugged Satoru's sleeve to get his attention. "Actually, _this_ came fresh off Sano-chi." He handed the egg that Sanosuke laid earlier, which made the police officer's shoulders slump in defeat.

Nonoko did a joyful jig and announced, "Guess what, darling? Looks like I'll be the one who'll handle your paycheck for this month, thanks to _my_ Otome prediction! Don't worry, I'll make sure to give you a big enough allowance for your trip back to Yokohama!"

"You're still on to that, honey?" Satoru inquired with an inappropriate-and-not-as-adorable pout that begged his wife to forget their continuing bet through his comically inept attempt at cuteness.

Um, yeah. Uh, in your face, Yoshi-boy," Gan halfheartedly cheered once he recovered from his shock, then grabbed the sixteen-year-old teenager by the scruff of his shirt and whispered, "What are you playing at? I'm not buying this sudden act of kindness one bit."

"Then don't. Jeez," Yahiko mumbled back. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm not doing this for the Sakaguchis either. And I'm definitely not doing this for Chizuru! I'm doing this because I have more important things to attend to, and I don't want anymore distractions." Unfortunately for the boy, his murmured denials weren't silent enough for Chizuru's sharp ears to miss.

"Oh, excuse us for imposing on you, mister _freeloader_ whom we took care of after you'd nearly gotten yourself killed," Chizuru needled, laying down her guilt-trip upon Yahiko in thick helpings despite the fact that it was the Sakaguchis, not her, whom the boy should be most thankful to. "But I hardly believe that... What? Fifty, sixty sen tops... is enough to pay for the Goober Gan's debt. As I recall, that's more than four yen short, even if you do add your pathetic rurouni travel money with it."

"But Yahiko-chi only betted ten sen on the championship cockfight that Sano-chi just won! It had high odds, so it should have given him enough money to pay for Gan-chi's tab had the crowd not... rioted... because of the... controversial win afterwards. Hehehe," Minoe unthinkingly mentioned, which he soon regretted after he felt a withering stare or two pierce into the back of his head. "What's that thing they say about hindsight?"

"You WHAT?" Chizuru exploded as she pushed the one-eyed wimp aside and confronted an indifferent Yahiko. "Were you condoning that big galoot's actions? My goodness, Yahiko! I expected better from you! Not only did you take your precious time in catching this hooligan, but you also went to a cockfight and bet good money on it! You clueless hypocrite! No wonder you and this big goof have become bosom buddies the minute you've caught up with each other! You should get a room together! But before you do that, you better force your BOYFRIEND to pay his DEBT first!"

Yahiko yawned as he tried his best to keep the retort brewing inside his throat in check. He had no time to defend his actions to either his supposed "girlfriend" or "boyfriend"; he had more important plans and engagements to attend to. "Fine, fine. Whatever. But with that said, I can safely assure you that I have enough money to pay for Gan's debt and then some." In a more resentful tone, he supplemented, "Because he's the one who won our bet anyway. It's his money."

Gan raised an eyebrow at that. "I'm really happy with you acting so generously and all, but I have to ask: Where did you get the money?"

"The reason I'm late is because I went back to check on Aka... Oyakata-dono and Kami-what's-his-face, right? Well, by the time I arrived outside the Shinshu Market, 'God' had already left the building, but the Oyakata was still there. Surprisingly enough, he'd already straightened out the whole mess with the angry mob. I don't know how he did it, but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So when I met with him, he personally gave me the money that I... well, _you_ won from the championship cockfight. And so here we are."

Gan seemed to brighten up for a second before his expression turned dour and bleary once more. "That's all well and good, but I remember how much you bet on Sanosuke. That's ten sen, Yoshi-boy. I don't know what the hell the odds were, but there's a slim chance that you'd win more than five yen from your joke of a vote of confidence."

"Oh, I don't know. How does a sixty-to-one-odds payoff plus the money I won earlier sound to you?" Yahiko rhetorically asked as he produced a bag of coins and gave it to Nonoko as payment. "There you go, ma'am."

The Sakaguchi Matriarch could hardly contain her glee. She'd been blessed with enough money from her husband and from the food bandit to weather the storm of low soba demand from their recently terrorized village. It was a fitting New Year's Gift for her and the soba shop. However, since it was still autumn, she couldn't tell if it was an advanced present or a belated one! Nevertheless, this was all thanks to Sanosuke the Otome, her personal purveyor of good fortune!

Yahiko heaved a sigh of relief as he gave the remaining one yen to Gan. 'And that's that. No more peculiar chickens, cockfights, gambling, food debts, and whatnot. No more Chizuru and her Kaoru-ish, raccoon-like ways. No more Minoe, his fake wig, his eye patch, and his mind-screwing speeches. Finally, no more Gan. Just... no more Gan.' The boy was about to make his leave when he felt someone tug his shirt. "What?"

"YOSHI-BOY!" Gan screeched merrily as he threw his arms around the flabbergasted teenager and tackled him to the floor. "You're so good to me, even though I did all kinds of nasty things to you! I never had a friend like you! Come here, you foul-mouthed, spiked-haired angel! I could kiss you! Not that I would, but I'm so happy, I'm leaving it as an option!" stated the bulky, hairy, sweaty, and altogether scary thug as he easily manhandled Yahiko with the gentlest of unintentional gropes, if "gentlest" meant "most bone-crushing".

"Hey, let go, you lummox! I don't swing that way! It's still not too late to lynch you, y'know! ARRRRGGGH!" Yahiko remonstrated while being smothered with violent, testosterone-filled affection. As it was, he could barely keep himself from expelling yesterday's large servings of soba all over Gan's face in revulsion.

"Okay, since you've gotten your boyfriend to pay his debt, you can now get yourselves a room or something," Chizuru quipped as she helped the giddy Nonoko count her money. "Everything is okay now, Yahiko. As far as the food debt is concerned, Gan's off the hook!"

Gan let go of Yahiko and started to make a beeline towards Chizuru. "YAHOO! Thanks for your support, KAORI-NEE...!" Unfortunately for Gan, instead of getting to embrace "Kaori-neechan", he instead had a whole lot of "Kaori knee" stuck to his severely abused groin.

"Since you like naming stuff so much, how about we call that little maneuver the 'Two Balls, One Knee Special'?" Chizuru sneered as she disdainfully looked down on Gan's crumpled form on the floor.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the nearby village, a timid young boy sneezed, then hit his palm with a closed fist as he came up with yet another new moniker for Yahiko's "Wrath of the End of the Era" crotch kick technique.

"W-What about me?" Minoe meekly interjected amidst the raucous celebration. He then cowered and retreated to a nearby corner of the room after everyone's attention became focused on him. "N-Ninpou: Kakuremi no Jutsu..." he pathetically moaned to no avail; he wasn't able to disappear like the stealth ninja he wished he was.

Just a little while ago, Minoe was somewhat feeling kind of low because he had nothing significant to add to the conversation. On that same respect, Kyoko started attending to the few customers the soba shop had, unnoticed by everyone else.

"What _about_ you, Patches?" Gan tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in an intimidating fashion at Minoe's "shrinking violet" pose. "Do I also owe you money, Patches? DO I?"

"M-Mochiron! That's the reason why I chased you and Yahiko-chi in the first place! You ate Raedo-sempai and my other comrades' meat buns, remember?" Minoe was nearly in tears as Gan invaded his personal space some more until they were both talking face-to-face. "That was a whole plate of dumplings you ruthlessly gorged upon in one sitting! Have a heart!"

"Well, the fact that I lost my highly successful food bet because of those tempting, scrumptious morsels is payment enough, I believe... OW!" Gan flinched and rubbed his head gingerly after Yahiko hit him with a short-range Ryu Tsui Sen care of the cloth-wrapped sakabatou.

"Pay the man," Yahiko demanded Gan with dead seriousness. "He helped you take care of Sanosuke up until its big fight in his own wacky way. Though we can all agree that the whole 'winning the championship' thing was more of a fluke or an Act of God than anything else, Minoe deserves better. Simply put, don't be a jerk. Pay up."

"Please, Gan-chi? The reason I chased after you all this time is because I couldn't even come back to my group's camp, even up till now. I'm sure I'll get my butt kicked once they see me come back empty handed! I beg you! Can you at least pay your tab now that you have the money? I'm in enough trouble as it is," Minoe implored yet again, which made everyone present feel repulsed at how much of an insufferable asshole Gan was, Gan included.

"I'm sorry! I didn't realize that I've put you into so much trouble," Gan bawled as he used his bandanna as a handkerchief of sorts to wipe his ironic tears and to blow his nose on. "Hell, I didn't even realize that you were in some sort of group. To think, you could have called upon them and had me lynched for real! Instead, you gave me the chance to pay you back! Let me make it up to you now; how much do I owe you, buddy?"

"Seventy-two sen, please," Minoe informed as he thrust his waiting palms over Gan's face.

"FUCK YOU! I'll only have twenty-eight sen left from my big win, you one-eyed, wig-wearing imp! Like I'm going to use my stash up to... OOF!" Gan was hit again, this time by means of Chizuru slamming the tip of a broomstick right into the hooligan's gut.

"One more wrong answer, and this goes straight to your backside. And just so you don't get any ideas, I will _make sure_ you won't enjoy the experience. Don't try me, Gan."

"Urk. Fine, fine. Just stop hitting me, the both of you. Or any of you, for that matter. Here you go, Patches," the Beaten-Up Gan relented as he at last paid Minoe with his one measly yen. "I'm done here. If you'll excuse me, I'm now off to the next district to flaunt my prizewinning cock to the gambling public!"

"Don't go showing off that cock just yet! What about me, man?" a gruff voice queried.

"You've got to be kidding me. Another debtor? Just who...?" Gan started, but he was quickly startled into submission by what... or who... greeted him.

All eyes turned towards the figure that had emerged from the entrance of the kitchen. The wooden floorboards groaned in distress at every step of the fifty-something newcomer as he approached the small crowd. Although his friendly, Buddha-like face bounced in cadence with his portly frame, the butcher knife he gripped tightly on one hand showed that he meant serious business. Combined, Gan and the stranger cast huge shadows over Yahiko and the others as though the pair were both grownups in the presence of mere children. Sumo wresters took up less space than them.

Unused to looking at another person eye-to-eye, the hooligan appeared out of sorts as he took a glance at the latest old man to grace his presence for the last twenty-four hours. Pointing dramatically and shouting, "YOU!" at him, Gan then tilted his head to the side and asked, "Who the hell are you?"

Both Yahiko and the newest old guy to introduce himself to the three stooges walloped Gan on the noggin simultaneously, but for different reasons altogether. "Don't pretend you know the guy just to take back what you've said a second later!" the Tokyo Samurai Descendant berated in annoyance.

For his part, Gan merely looked at the man with a blank expression on his face. "But I've never met this person before in my life."

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DON'T REMEMBER ME! The nerve of you! I'm the fish vendor whom you stole a fish from, you goddamned punk!" the corpulent, middle-aged merchant rambled, frothing in the mouth in completely justified anger.

Gan's mouth slackened in comprehension. "That was _you_?"

"Yes, that was me! What the hell happened to my merchandise, you fat, stinking fish thief?"

Gan sweated the way pigs didn't, despite the popular saying. "W-ell... Hehehe. _Funny_ story..."

* * *

_Just yesterday, inside the Shinshu Wet Market..._

Gan sneered as he looked over his shoulder, but raised an eyebrow and slowed his pace down after seeing Yahiko take his sweet time in chasing him. He would've picked up his pace again, leave his pursuer, and go straight to the nearest cockpit with his newly discovered moneymaking chicken in tow had he not noticed the look of utter smugness in the boy's face; man, did that look piss him off.

However, as his bare feet thudded on the ground in a manner that'd make a bull wary, he felt his stomach churn. All that running he'd done so far after enjoying a feast fit for a king was taking its toll on his body. He couldn't keep on running much longer without risking having an "accident" of sorts.

Knowing that Yahiko probably knew something he didn't... which was why the brat appeared confident about catching up to him despite giving him a head start... Gan made a beeline towards the stall of a nearby fish vendor.

Ignoring the merchant's friendly greeting, he grabbed hold of the biggest fish he could find and sprinted straight to the woods where his tied-up chicken was hidden before vomiting the contents of his hefty lunch behind a bush. He soon realized that, aside from meat buns and soba, he had dried eel for breakfast.

From there, Gan waited for the insufferable, kabuto-wearing boy to arrive, gripping his stolen fish tightly. If Yahiko didn't get there in fifteen minutes or so, he'd feed the fish... well, some of it... to his chicken later before he'd eat the rest of it for dinner. If Yahiko _did_ get there in time...

There he was. Gan licked his lips in anticipation. So the know-it-all Tokyoite thought that he had him figured out, huh? That he was just another hoodlum out of a hundred or so hoodlums he was used to bullying? Well, screw that.

To some people, what Gan did next made absolutely no sense whatsoever. To Gan, it made perfect sense to slap Yahiko with a humongous fish, shove the very same foodstuff into his mouth, and ram him into the brittle wall next to them. If anything, the look of bewilderment on the arrogant little snot's face was well worth the effort. It was this unique kind of viewpoint that made Gan call himself "Great".

* * *

_Back to the relative present..._

"Oh yeah. Before all this Kami-sama nonsense, I used to call myself the Great Gan. Huh," the Gan formally known as Great reminisced fondly.

"Don't talk about it like it happened seven years ago! You were calling yourself that just yesterday, you numbskull!" Yahiko protested earnestly. "You're also focusing on the wrong thing! You hit me on the face with a fish you _stole_, and now karma is letting even more bad things happen to you! It serves you right!"

"I guess you're through with your flashback, you bad cliche of a hired goon," the over-muscled yet still unnamed fish vendor ironically scoffed (Hint: Which of the two looked more like the bad cliche of a hired goon... Gan or the fish vendor?). "Give me back my fish or pay for that stolen merchandise! That was an eight kin fish, and I charge thirty sen per kin! Do the math!"

"Er, I'm good for it..." Gan assured as he backed away from the one man in the room that made him look downright scrawny.

* * *

Last night, unbeknownst to the cockfighting cohorts, the Sakaguchis and friend, or the nameless fish merchant, the by-then rotting fish they were having an argument over was surrounded, strangely enough, by bats.

Of course, the bats weren't eating the fish, but were instead gorging on the large amount of flies surrounding it. There were so many insects swarming it that it looked more like a wriggling, fish-shaped mass of black and gray.

The Minoe-dubbed "Kitsune-chi" screed in delight at the disgusting feast before summoning his brethren to join him into one last midnight flight into the overcast skies, homing in on a familiar, eye-patched prey of theirs.

* * *

Minoe shuddered for a moment, slightly ruffling Sanosuke's feathers as a sudden memory of Kitsune-chi and company's predatory bat eyes, bat claws, and batwings bubbled to the surface of his mind. On that note, the fish vendor's upturned nose and overbite kind of resembled his flying rat friends' features despite his jolly appearance.

However, the merchant was by-and-far more threatening because there wasn't a hint of mercy in his eyes; all they held were murderous fury. Then again, it would've been easier to be intimidated by the hulk of a man had he not have a valid reason to feel such fiery wrath.

"Uh, can't I just pay in mon instead of yen? The government sucks, you see. Down with the Meiji Government, right? Right?" Gan warily reasoned, a dog's fake smile plastered on his face.

"Please don't tell me you're planning to give me phased-out currency," the fish merchant "pleaded" in a "Please don't make me hurt you," manner. He afterwards closed in on the trapped hooligan.

"How about me paying you back in sen? Or in rin? You'll still get the same amount, only there are a lot more coins... and counting... involved," came another one of Gan's attempts at swindling.

"GIVE ME MY MERCHANDISE BACK, YOU THIEF!"

So, as the fish vendor loomed over Gan like a youkai-oni hybrid from hell, the thug pathetically bleated, "Come on! Give me a break! I thought that was just a throwaway gag! Hitting a guy with a fish is supposed to be funny and consequence-free! Besides, I could barely even remember you complaining or making your presence known during my flashback sequence! Granted, that's because I ignored you, but still! I bet you're so unimportant in the grand scheme of things that I don't even need to know your name!"

"Oh no, you didn't. Now you've said too much. HEAVENLY RETRIBUTION!" the fish vendor announced as he wrenched Gan's head in a tight grapple hold.

Gan gasped for breath several times before commenting, "In retrospect, being suffocated by beefy arms and man-stink is only slightly worse than Kaori-neechan's unhealthy fixation on my nether regions."

"HEAVENLY RETRIBUTION!" Chizuru and the fish vendor unanimously chorused before looking at each other in shock.

Just then, without warning or reason, Yahiko laughed long and hard. He couldn't quite explain it, but he found the whole state of affairs outrageously hilarious for some reason. He didn't know if he'd gone completely bonkers by Gan's antics or not, but the randomness of it all just made him cackle until there were tears in his eyes and his sides ached.

Unexpectedly, everybody else followed Yahiko's lead. Everyone started laughing so hard that they failed to notice Chizuru try to strangle Gan anyway despite the growing hollers. The keyword here was _tried_, as the Raikouji Heiress couldn't bring herself to do it properly because of her own growing mirth.

The thug thrashed around momentarily, pleading for assistance from the others, but everybody else was sniggering too much to muster a coherent response. Even the fish vendor began to holler for a spell. Before long, his grip on Gan's throat eased for a second and the thug was able to wheeze out, "All right! I'm sorry! I mean... What the hell is so funny anyway?"

Chizuru tried to choke Gan once more, but her second attempt was far less successful than her first one... by this time, she herself was tittering too hard to be able to even get a proper grip around the ruffian's neck. One look at Gan's confused, bluish face was all it took; she completely lost it. After a short period, all of them were in whooping bundles on the floor, rolling around in uncontainable amusement.

At that point, Kyoko and several customers in the restaurant had to see what was happening inside the kitchen, with the youngest Sakaguchi smilingly inquiring, "Why is everybody laughing?"

Minoe demurely giggled, "Because Gan-chi's evil and stupid, and everybody hates him."

From then on, somberness became a distant memory. It had transformed into one of those epic attacks of uncontrollable mass hysteria that lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Whenever it showed signs of abating, one of them would breathe out, "Gan-chi", "Stupid", or "Evil", and all of them would start howling again.

After a while, they began to draw a larger gathering from even outside the restaurant, and sometime later, several officers out for breakfast arrived to demand what was happening.

However, none of those originally gathered were lucid enough to answer back, and eventually the patrolmen trudged away in stumped disbelief. In fact, the only one inside the kitchen who wasn't laughing his or her lungs off was a scowling, petulant Gan; his attitude, paradoxically, aided in furthering everyone else's laughing fit.

Nothing lasted forever, though. Yahiko reeled back, grasping his abdomen and holding back yesterday's lunch inside his throat. Soon enough, the others were slowly able to gather their wits back before they gasped for air in a euphoric manner.

"Wow," gasped Yahiko in the end. "Thanks, Gan. I needed a laugh."

"Asshole," Gan spat as he squatted in the corner of the room, his large, wide back turned at everybody like a petulant child who'd just been teased and bullied by his playmates.

"In all seriousness, I'm just about to open shop at the marketplace. Can't I get some temporary payment from this Gan clown? Something I could pawn at least?" the fish vendor requested. Just then, Sanosuke flew towards his head and sat on it. But instead of getting angry, he became intrigued by the strange livestock. "Is this his? Because I'm willing to accept this bird as payment."

"You will NOT GET MY BABY!" Gan copy-exclaimed like he did yesterday, when he first hit Yahiko with a big fish he stole from the very same vendor who was presently demanding payback from him for the very same fish. Karmic mockery ensued.

"I'll be the one to pay Gan's tab with the fish," both Yahiko and Nonoko answered in unison, which startled not only Yahiko and Nonoko, but Gan as well; what was it with these people who interchangeably acted like jerks and saints at random intervals?

"I can't pay the whole tab, but I'm willing to pay part of it for Gan's sake," Yahiko proposed, but Nonoko gently pushed the boy aside and solicited to the vendor, "I _can_ pay the whole tab, but on one condition: I get to keep the Otome... er, the chicken, I mean. Sorry, Gan-san."

"Wha...?" Gan's jaw dropped in dismay. Even the seemingly nice Nonoko Sakaguchi wanted in on his golden chicken's moneymaking ability.

"But dear, why would you do that?" Satoru asked his wife, genuinely perplexed.

"Because we've gotten all sorts of blessings ever since that chicken had come into our lives, honey!" Nonoko clarified primly as she gently took hold of the chicken and let it rest on top of her bosom. "She's our lucky charm of sorts, so paying a little over two yen for her is a bargain."

"It's actually two yen and forty sen," the fish vendor clarified, to which Nonoko responded by wordlessly handing her payment. Well... Okay. As long as I get paid, then everything's settled," the large man yielded before unceremoniously leaving for his stall in the Shinshu Market, whistling a happy tune.

"Is this all right with you, Food Bandit-san?" Nonoko none-to-subtly beseeched as she mustered up her best pleading pout while stroking the chicken on her chest like a feathered and beaked baby.

Gan exhaled dolefully after much consideration. "As long as Sanosuke is happy, then fine. You can keep him." He knew that there was no way in hell the cockpits would allow a half-rooster, half-hen compete once word got out of its victory against Suzaku... but damn, he could have at least sold the chicken to a circus or something. Oh well; at least he had a clear tab. "So how about I get a bowl of breakfast on the house?"

"Hahaha... No," Chizuru firmly vetoed, and that was that.

Minoe patted Gan's shoulder. "You may be evil and stupid, but you did the right thing, Gan-chi. I'm proud of you," the girly man remarked with an impressed tone. In effect, he was so impressed that he didn't mind being on the receiving end of a Gan-type pounding afterwards.

"I hope you're all happy, damn... Hey, Yoshi-boy! Where do you think you're going?" Gan asked after catching Yahiko sneak his way out of the kitchen using the backdoor.

"Somewhere... else. I kind of have an appointment later in the evening. Thanks for the laughs, though," Yahiko replied to Gan without, surprisingly enough, any sarcasm or malice in his tone before heading out into Shinshu's bustling, police-infested streets, his head filled to the brim with all sorts of plans and expectations.

* * *

_Earlier, just beyond the violent Shinshu underground cockpits, after the insane throng of cockfighting maniacs had disappeared..._

"Ah, there you are, Seta-kun. Good. It's time for us to go," Tetsuo Akahori summoned his cheerful bodyguard as he leisurely emerged from the secret exit of the Shinshu cockpits. After that, in the corner of his eye, he spotted Yahiko, which prompted him to idly note, "Oh, it's you. You came back. Well, if you're looking for Higashidani-kun, you just missed him; he has already left for home. But if you go now, you might still be able to catch him."

"No, that's quite all right, Mister Akahori." Yahiko waved off the Oyakata's offhanded comment. "You yourself should really be going back to your mansion or wherever, though. If Shishio Makoto's own right-hand man couldn't stop the real Battousai Group in action, then I'd be really concerned about them if I were you. Your life is still in peril even as we speak."

As per usual, the inwardly self-satisfied Tokyo Samurai displayed the subtlety of Commodore Perry charging through the ports of Japan with his recent discovery of Akahori's true identity.

Despite Yahiko's announcement, the Oyakata didn't even seem in any way fazed as he inquired, "Is he a friend of yours, Seta-kun?" By friend, he of course meant "an old opponent who was your equal in battle" or even "part of the now-defunct Juppon Gatana". Somehow, Akahori had a feeling that the boy was neither.

Soujiro snickered giddily at Akahori's meaningful inquiry. "He's _that_ young man, Akahori-san. The other prodigy I talked to you about, the one that I fought in Shinshu's bamboo grove forest... Himura-san's prodigy, in a manner of speaking."

"Ah, so he is." For once, Akahori gave the boy whom he barely spared a second glance to earlier an almost intrusive inspection. Yahiko and his cohorts were an interesting bunch, but he hadn't imagined the child to be _this_ fascinating.

Yahiko's shirt and hakama suddenly felt several degrees less comfortable than before under Akahori's sharp scrutiny. Tugging at his collar, he worriedly asked, "W-What is it?"

After a lengthy assessment of the current situation and circumstances, Akahori made a, for him, spur of the moment decision and requested, "Can I interest you in a little proposition, Myojin-kun?"

"What proposition is that, sir?" Yahiko urged the statesman; he had a gut feeling that he already knew what Akahori was going to say next.

"Since you were able to hold your own against the Ten Ken here... relatively speaking," Akahori gave a cursory glance at the bandages on Yahiko's body, finally figuring out that they weren't merely for show, "I've decided to offer you a job as one of my hired bodyguards for tonight's... heh... largely unattended gathering."

The Oyakata smirked at the so-far feeble turnout of his proposed meeting with his colleagues-in-office. The gathering was supposed to be a private one, focusing on talks in regards to the reports of a supposed alliance between the forces of the remaining anti-government factions still at large during the Meiji Era. But the public threats of the recently emerged Battousai Group changed all that.

Although the Meiji Government had held up quite tenaciously after what should have been the killing blow of Toshimichi Okubo's death and the continuous in-fighting amongst the twenty-person oligarchy (that Akahori was a part of, incidentally) responsible for national-level decision-making, a long-festering rebellion-to-be was obviously not in the best interests of the developing yet divided administration.

The Meiji Government had its legs, but it also had rust within its ranks so early in its barely two-decade reign. The government's wishy-washy wariness to completely abandon the old ways and embrace new ones, coupled with Japan's inexperience as a world nation after the previous centuries-old isolationalist regime had ended, made the government look weak and undecided to most of its constituents.

For example, one of the pressures that the early Meiji Government suffered from was the division between the bureaucrats who favored some form of representative government based on overseas models, and the more traditional parties who favored centralized authoritarian rule. It was all about the conservatives who wanted things the way they were versus the liberals who kept on clamoring for change. Since time immemorial, many regimes all over the world had gone through this type of conflict, and the Meiji Government was no exception to this rule.

To be quite frank, merely thinking about the continuous rise and fall of partisan politics between conservatives and liberals gave Akahori a, pardon the pun, splitting headache.

Sure, the Boshin War was all but a memory at that point, and the Ishin Shishi officials were able to quite deftly "micromanage" the hell out of Makoto Shishio's uprising, indirectly assigning the retired Battousai to do their dirty work for them. However, problems rarely ever solved themselves, and for every predicament that did get addressed, a new batch of hydra-headed troubles sprouted in their place.

Nevertheless, the assassination threats of the alleged Battousai Group had turned Akahori's meeting into a farce and a sideshow, with his fellow statesmen and underlings proving their cowardice... or perhaps simply having enough common sense to heed their self-preservation instinct... by making up all sorts of excuses not to be associated with the conference as much as possible.

"Don't you have more than enough guards already? My... someone I just met in Shinshu had her father travel all the way from Yokohama just to guard you, you know! That, coupled with all the law enforcement you've already taken from Shinshu, makes a veritable infantry of police escorts. Don't tell me that even they aren't enough to protect you!" Yahiko argued, rousing the Oyakata from his lengthy self-exposition.

Soujiro perked up. "Oh, you mean Kyoko-san's father, Sakaguchi-san? He's in town? My, my. It's like a reunion amongst the Seiryu Clan, almost," the ex-Juppon Gatana remarked, much to Yahiko's vexation. It was exchanges like this that made the younger boy feel unsure about where the enigmatic older boy's loyalties truly lay. Perhaps Soujiro did, in a twisted sort of way, finish off Keisuke more for Kyoko's sake than for the sake of his own psychotic tendencies.

'Wait, Seiryu? Seiryu _Clan_? What is Psycho-Kid babbling about this time?'

Akahori waved off Yahiko's protests in the same manner Yahiko did to him earlier on. "You shouldn't concern yourself with the number of my guards. Several members of the Council of Elders gave them to me as payment for the debt of honor they've incurred after taking a rain check on our appointment. There are still some heads of state coming here, so the security is still tight despite the turnout."

The Oyakata had actually told a half-truth; security was supposed to be tight when the meeting was still _underway_, but now that his fellow nobles had abandoned him because of the Battousai Group's open threats to his life, the gathering _should_ have been called off altogether. Nonetheless, Akahori had other plans; reckless, all-or-nothing plans that his so-called peers heartily supported so long as they weren't directly involved in it.

"THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT ALL RIGHT! HUMAN LIVES SHOULDN'T BE BARTERED FOR FAVORS!" Yahiko screamed at Akahori before closing his eyes tight and mastering his temper. He felt so livid he could hardly see straight. A crimson haze kept hemorrhaging into the edge of his vision. After a while, he took a long, hard breath and opened his eyes to glower at the Oyakata.

The sinews of Yahiko's neck muscles bulged as blood pumped into his flustered, reddened face. "The huge number of guards you've stationed around you and your meeting is the very reason why Shinshu was besieged by common criminals claiming to be the Battousai Group! The sheer number of policemen should have handled those thugs easily had they not been busy guarding your little tea party!"

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next:** The silence before chaos?

_Before I forget, Kenshin's adoption of the Kamiya name originated from "Tanuki to Ryuu" author ChaosBurnFlame. All rights reserved._

_The fit of laughter Yahiko and company had is modeled after the very same bout of hilarity Dhiti and friends shared in a chapter of Angus MacSpon's epic "Sailor Moon 4200" fanfic. Seeing that Krista Perry-Fisk's "Hearts of Ice" has ended satisfactorily, I really do wish that Mister MacSpon follows suit. One hopes that he can finish his lengthy magnum opus within the next decade or so. :P_

**Maraming salamat po sa pagbabasa!_  
_**Abdiel


	12. Chapter 12

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Continuation fic  
by Chester Castañeda

_Egad, I need to pace myself better. Let's now make this fanfic's glacial pacing speed up into a rip-roaring Schumacher racecar or something!_

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Calm Before the Storm**

* * *

_Way past midnight, beyond the dangerous Shinshu cockpits, after the wild mass of gambling addicts had already dispersed..._

"My, my. Such impudent spunk and idealism in a young lad," Akahori condescendingly marveled at Yahiko, sending the teenager's temper on edge. "And here I thought you'd naturally help me, what with your connection with the _ real_ Hitokiri Battousai and all. Are you really okay about seeing your mentor's name sullied by these wannabe Battousai upstarts?"

"What kind of a stupid question is that? I could care less about who wants to impersonate whoever, and so does Kenshin. You have enough guards... too many, in fact... especially with Psycho-Kid here acting as your lead escort. Besides," Yahiko sneered as he slipped on Takae's kabuto and began to make his leave, "although the shape of the new era was formed sixteen years ago, those who are truly in need of happiness are still in the old era, where the weak is oppressed. I'm much more interested in protecting the lives and interests of those people than some politician's sorry ass. So good-bye, Oyakata-dono."

Who cared if Tetsuo Akahori was part of the Ruling Class of the Meiji Government? Who cared if the old man was at a position of power at par or even beyond that of Aritomo Yamagata, or just below that of the late Toshimichi Okubo? In Yahiko's mind, Akahori was no better than the likes of the slimy, grubby, and greedy Jusanro Tani.

Yahiko had no idea what Soujiro Seta... the _true_ assassin of Okubo and not the unjustly popular Ichiro Shimada... was doing with such a revolting man. Maybe the Ten Ken had gone soft and corrupt after all his wanderings as a rurouni, making him settle down in the position of just another government lapdog like the rest of the remaining Juppon Gatana did in order to survive. Perhaps Akahori even helped Soujiro get absolved of his treasonous crimes in exchange for his services. Yahiko neither knew nor cared.

"Okay, kid. I'll level with you."

Yahiko turned, and was surprised by the man who greeted him. The black presence of the Oyakata back inside the Shinshu Cockpits was already formidable to begin with, but the Tetsuo Akahori in front of him was a different man... or even animal... altogether.

"Do you want to know the reason why there are so many policemen in a meeting that's supposed to be canceled from the get go? They didn't just come all the way out here because of orders, I assure you," Akahori finally relented, sitting on a nearby rock and forming a steeple with his folded hands.

"W-What...?" Yahiko mumbled, his eyebrows furrowed as he gulped down the rising feeling of dread and bile in his throat. He afterwards shook his head as if to clear it. "Nothing you say will ever change my mind. In fact, I'd rather that you canceled your stupid meeting and make all those policemen return to their original posts!"

"Aw, don't be like that, Yahiko-san!" Soujiro thoughtfully remarked as he reminded Yahiko, "Kyoko-san will be sad if her father were to come back to Yokohama after he just got here. Don't be heartless."

"SO YOU'D RATHER HE DIE HERE, RISKING HIS LIFE FOR SOME POLITICIAN SCUMBAG? No, he's better off returning to Yokohama than staying here in Shinshu," Yahiko fearlessly berated the Ten Ken, but stopped his mounting rant short when Akahori declared:

"It's up to you whether you'll accept my invitation or not. But I will tell you this... these sheer number of guards I have right now? I didn't force them to come to Shinshu. I didn't force them to do anything they didn't want to do. I'm sure you can find things out for yourself," Akahori explained obtusely, his expression unreadable behind his interlocked hands.

"..." Yahiko seethed with an incredulous scowl, but he still opted to deny the Oyakata's request anyway, rationalizing in his mind that Akahori's loaded statement was nothing more than the self-aggrandizing justifications of a garden-variety politician.

"Oh, by the way; here's the money you three won from the cockfight earlier," the Oyakata offhandedly mentioned as he threw a cloth filled with a sack of coins over to Yahiko, which the boy automatically caught.

"So what? Are you resorting to bribery now?" Yahiko hotly demanded.

"Nothing of the sort; you've won that money fair and square," Akahori explicated equably. "This has nothing to do with whatever you decide upon. That prize is yours even if you insist on refusing my request."

Once the Tokyo Samurai Descendant gave the pair a curt bow and left for Shinshu, Soujiro looked at his boss in cherubic inquisitiveness and asked, "Do you think he'll still come?"

"I know his type. He'll come to the mansion anyway regardless of what he thinks of me, especially after he finds out the truth about the Battousai Group."

"So why'd you bother inviting him in the first place, Akahori-san?" Soujiro persisted, his head tilted to the side. "What could he possibly add to your plans?"

The Oyakata rubbed his chin contemplatively, the moon creating a perfect backlight for his thin silhouette as he took out his pipe and bit on its tip with what looked like a cross between a grimace and a grin. "Call it a crapshoot, then."

* * *

Morning rose over Nagano as it would in any other province. The sunrise was particularly dull; it had neither extra liveliness nor zestfulness in its unremarkable entrance. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary today.

Well, _nearly_ nothing was, in any case.

Earlier on in the Sakaguchi residence, before meeting with Gan, Minoe, Chizuru, and the Sakaguchi family downstairs, Yahiko had quietly sneaked upstairs into the room where he'd recuperated from his injuries, packed his stuff, tied them onto his cloth-wrapped sakabatou, and hid his precious few belongings at the shoe and slipper racks on the side of the soba shop before ultimately entering the kitchen to settle the peculiar chicken dilemma once and for all.

After the matter was done and over with, Yahiko felt the urge to get the hell out of Shinshu grow inside him, his samurai pride be damned. There certainly were more important places for him to visit that needed the help of a swordsman-in-training like himself. However, Akahori's words kept on haunting him like the whisper of a nightmare.

'I didn't force them to come here to Shinshu. I didn't force them to do anything they didn't want to do.'

Was Akahori lying? Was he playing Yahiko for a fool? The boy wasn't sure, but he was itching to find out, especially now that the Battousai Group's reappearance was at hand.

As soon as the young man lost the stubborn Gan and Minoe in an ensuing chase, he made his way back to the soba shop. From there, he called out and confronted Satoru Sakaguchi, talked to him about the secret behind the small infantry of policemen assigned to protect Akahori, and was completely dumbfounded by what the officer revealed.

"Mind you, this is top secret information. The only reason I'm telling you this is because you have helped save my daughter's life."

"Okay, sir. Mum's the word."

"Do you know who Amakusa Shiro is?" Satoru pursed his lips and carefully examined Yahiko's expression as he waited for a response.

Yahiko was taken aback by the question. What self-respecting Japanese person wouldn't know who Shiro Amakusa was? "He was that Christian Samurai that led an uprising a long, long time ago in a far, far away place, right?" Apparently, Yahiko Myojin was the historically clueless sort of Japanese youngster.

At any rate, Satoru proceeded to tell Yahiko everything, and the boy processed the information accordingly. Six years ago in Shimabara, while Yahiko, Kenshin, and the rest of their group faced the vengeful madman known as Enishi Yukishiro, the Meiji Government had at last gained a semblance of stability after the downfall of the Juppon Gatana.

Ergo, they sought to prove their superiority by moving in to crush a brewing _second_ Shimabara Rebellion with a covert preemptive strike. In truth, the leader of the Christian Shimabara rebels even had the gall to claim himself as the Second Coming of Amakusa Shiro, citing that the tides of history was on his side or some such nonsense to his followers.

In hindsight, it was rather cowardly of the government to send in a whole platoon to murder farmers and artisans led by a complete loon who followed a religion that, more in theory than in practice, promoted peace and frowned upon violence. Yahiko felt a cross-shaped nerve throb in the corner of his temple. "So? What does this Ama-whoever have to do with Akahori's aborted little meeting?"

"Everything, actually. Fact number one: Akahori was called in by the Ministry of Defense as an advisor to the civil unrest at the time, because he was supposed to have certain connections to one of the rebels. That's the reason why this Amakusa incarnate and his newly found Battousai Group is targeting Akahori as of now.

"Fact number two: Like cockroaches, Amakusa and his followers were able to survive the planned assault. Also, this meeting is supposed to be in regards to Amakusa and many other anti-Meiji factions joining forces to launch guerrilla warfare upon the government, intending to destroy it from within. But that's not the worse of it.

"Fact number three: The overall casualties on the government's side during that covert yet disastrous campaign numbered about two thousand out of five thousand policemen... and, infamously enough, half of that number is credited to none other than the new Amakusa Shiro, who renamed himself Amakusa Shogo by the end of that secret war."

Yahiko blanched at Satoru's information overload, especially at the last item of his long speech. In typical fashion, the Meiji planned out a literal genocide of the remaining anti-Meiji insurgents. In atypical fashion, they were thwarted by some sort of religious zealot pretending to be a historical figure. "Wait, what? There must be some sort of mistake. One man was able to take on and kill about a thousand troops _alone_ in one _battle_? You have got to be kidding me."

"It took about a month's work, and some claim the number of casualties was exaggerated, but that's how the legend of Amakusa Shogo stands. Like a flash of lightning, he went... splitting into two, then into a thousand shadows that left nothing but chopped-up pieces of human flesh and spongy giblets in their path. Or so I've heard." Yahiko was so busy being shocked by Satoru's statements that he missed out the hesitant darting of the discomfited policeman's eyes.

The sixteen year old couldn't believe his ears. He had only met Kyoko's father for barely a day, so he couldn't rule him out as a liar... or, at the very least, someone who was merely misguided by the government's propaganda. But then again, whole troops being slain by one man wasn't exactly something that the Meiji would proudly advertise to its police force.

He wasn't even sure if either of the Ishin Shishi hitokiri he knew... Kenshin Himura-Kamiya or Makoto Shishio... could match Amakusa's feat. Perhaps, but it was a bit of a long shot, or even an overstatement. It just had to be a lie! An old wives' tale! But before he could contend any of Satoru's "facts", the man was already talking, reporting:

"So far, the alliance between Amakusa Shogo's Battousai Group and the other anti-Meiji factions haven't happened yet because of Akahori-san's meddling, so Shogo will probably be the assassin who's coming for Akahori-san's head tonight. He has done his own dirty work before, assassinating heads of state and incurring the government's wrath, so it's not that much of a stretch for him to do the same thing now."

Yahiko's eyes furrowed into slits. The one-man army who killed a thousand government troops; soldiers who handled howitzers, rifles, and gatling guns; the brothers, fathers, and grandfathers of many a widow and her children; was already there in Shinshu. Suddenly, the number of guards Akahori had didn't sound so significant anymore, despite Yahiko's persistent disbelief over Satoru's claims. "So that's the reason why the Meiji Ruling Class allowed Akahori to have numerous bodyguards? Because Amakusa, the Thousand-Soldier-Killer, is coming to town?"

"Not exactly. To tell you the truth, like you, most of these people could care less whether Akahori-san lives or dies. This escort job is supposed to be nothing more than just that... a job. But since they'd discovered that Amakusa Shogo was involved, everything changed. Most of the guards gathered here are the friends, comrades, and family members of the people Amakusa killed six years ago in Shimabara. This isn't just a meeting anymore. Not for these people."

Satoru's message was clear: Most of the officers and military personnel sent to Shinshu weren't assigned there; they practically _volunteered_ to go to that remote province after learning that this infamous Shogo Amakusa character was somehow connected to the so-called Battousai Group and Akahori's pending assassination.

Yahiko frowned, realizing an unfortunate implication that went over Satoru's own head because he, the boy guessed, was far more emotionally involved with this conflict than he let on. As expected of a master manipulator, Akahori _ deliberately_ surrounded himself with people who had personal vendettas against Amakusa. For these purported guardians, this mission was more than just risking their lives in the line of duty; this was the very culmination of their own quests for heavenly and earthly retribution. Tenchu and Jinchu. Justice and Revenge. Resolution and Closure.

Because of that, knowing that this was _Akahori_ he was thinking about, Yahiko couldn't help but feel sympathy for the devil... pardon the ironic pun. Amakusa and the Christian rebels from Shimabara, for all intents and purposes, were merely protecting themselves against an ethnic cleansing not seen since the Tokugawa Government's murder of the Ainu people. Granted, the boy had yet to know the _whole_ story behind the Shimabara incident, but he couldn't, for the life of him, completely villainize Amakusa and think of Akahori as the victim of this story. He just couldn't.

After finishing his informative talk with Satoru, Yahiko thanked the officer and decided to go to the mansion just out of town and accept Akahori's "offhand" invitation. And now, with a giddy head, a bento-like packing of his possessions tied to his weapon, and a tired sigh, the young lad braced himself and started to make his mental and physical preparations for his upcoming mission, weighing everything on his mind so that he'd have a realistic assessment of the current situation.

Yahiko didn't _need_ to go. He certainly didn't _want_ to go, either... that damn house used to belong to that big, fat, greedy son of a bitch Ishin Shishi politician, Tani. The overweight bastard must have sold the mansion away to Akahori after being beaten to a pulp by Sanosuke Sagara (nee Higashidani, _not_ the peculiar chicken), Yahiko mused with a wan smile. All the same, the circumstances reeked too much of the same stink of bureaucracy that Sanosuke got banished from Japan by, so it was understandable why Yahiko was feeling more than a little apprehensive over honoring Akahori's casual request.

Speaking of Tani, the setup behind the Battousai Group's strategy was suspiciously just like how Jine "Kurogasa" Udo used to operate. Was it a coincidence? Yahiko wasn't sure, but it would seem that the Battousai-in-name-only terrorists probably knew a lot about Jine's confrontation and eventual defeat in the hands of Kenshin for them to be able to take a page out of his past experiences. If the Battousai Group wasn't just using Kenshin's old name as a scare tactic and knew more about him than even Yahiko expected, then perhaps this serendipitous event wasn't a coincidence after all.

Yahiko didn't know it at the time it happened, but he eventually figured out why Kenshin entertained the job to protect Tani; Kurogasa showed the ex-rurouni what he could've become had he not met Tomoe Yukishiro and subsequently vowed never to take another human life ever again. Fighting the infamous Jine Udo was, in a way, a cathartic approach for Kenshin to face his own innermost demons.

In contrast, Yahiko barely even knew anything about this Amakusa-and-Battousai-wannabe's history or motivations. There was no incentive for him to go after this Christian terrorist. Besides, who was he to deny Amakusa's victims the chance to get their revenge against the obviously insane man? The whole thing had nothing to do with him, even. But then again, the siege of Shinshu just three weeks ago and that kidnapping incident involving one of Shishio's former underlings from a year back didn't have anything to do with him either.

Was Yahiko going to act hypocritical and deny people help this one time just because he didn't like the person he was going to save? Maybe. But Kenshin wouldn't approve of his actions; he knew Kamishimoemon wouldn't either, even if Sanosuke's father wasn't somehow connected with Akahori for one reason or the other.

"So you think you can let some maniac with a sword kill all those people with the excuse that you have nothing to do with it? Bullshit! Bullshit, I say!" Kamishimoemon would probably admonish.

Yahiko blinked. On that note, why didn't Kamishimoemon use his hefty connections with the obviously more powerful Akahori to bail Shinshu out of Tani's grubby influence six years ago? Indeed, if the Higashidani Patriarch had enough pull to setup a marketplace (and a questionable gambling arena) in the very heart of Shinshu, then why did he have such a hard time going against the likes of small fry politicians like Tani?

The boy chuckled after he realized the silliness of his questions. Since this was Sanosuke's father he was thinking about, then the answer should've been obvious from the get go; foolish pride and double standards. That was all there was to it.

Another thought occurred to him, though. Had he not helped bail Shinshu out of trouble, then perhaps Soujiro, Kamishimoemon, or even the deluge of police from the rest of the Kanto district would've done so. 'But that's neither here nor there, and what's done is done. I should forget about it,' Yahiko insisted to himself, but there was still a tinge of annoyed bitterness in his mind's voice.

Just then, Yahiko remembered something very important about Kurogasa that enabled the crazed Shinsengumi/Ishin Shishi turncoat to take out multiple opponents at one time. 'Nikaido Heiho Ougi: Shin no Ippo,' the boy reflected gravely.

The Shin no Ippo was the succession technique of Jine's Nikaido Heiho, a deadly skill that fed off people's fears. If the victim was afraid, the technique could either paralyze or choke him to death. However, it could also be shaken off, provided that one had a strong enough will to go against it. It could be used to hypnotize the user as well, bringing out his full power.

Considering the sheer arrogance that the Battousai Group displayed in regards to executing Tetsuo Akahori as they closely followed Kurogasa's brazen assassination tactics to the letter, it wasn't really a stretch of the imagination to think that Shiro... no, Shogo Amakusa had the capability of using a technique similar to or even a tad stronger than the Shin no Ippo. It would probably explain the bloated number of victims he had, even.

Of course, Yahiko still remembered Keisuke's last words before getting mercy-killed by Soujiro; the not-so-juvenile delinquent apparently saw a red-haired man with a cross-shaped scar whom cut him and his goons down like trees.

Okay then. The Descendant of Tokyo Samurai couldn't think of any other reason for the mystery killer to annihilate the fake Battousai Group save for the fact that he was part of the _real_ Battousai Group and was sending a grisly message to Akahori and his contingent. Hell, based on Keisuke's description, he might even _look_ the part of Battousai.

'How does it all fit together?' Yahiko pondered. Could it be that this Amakusa person was actually a Kenshin look-alike who could perform the Shin no Ippo at will and take down a small army all by himself, thus making him a literal cross between Kenshin and Jine?

'That... sounds about as silly as the rumor-mongering and speculation about Kenshin's origins that the villagers of Shinshu engaged in just three weeks ago. Whatever the case, this really does look like the perfect job for Kenshin to handle. But since he's now 'retired' and I'm incidentally at the right place and at the right time, what the hell. I'll take the job.'

"Boo," the Great-Or-Not-So-Great-Depending-On-Who-You-Ask Gan boomed from behind Yahiko, startling the boy.

"Imitation Technique, RYU TSUI SEN!" Yahiko screamed after jumping a good five feet into the air, hammering the Imprudent Gan on the head with his sheathed sakabatou. "Dammit, you scared the crap out of me! Who the hell taught you that?"

"Some silly old man I met back in Kyoto. Nobuhiro-someone-or-another," Gan confessed as he gingerly rubbed his sore, bandanna-wrapped head. "I had the same reaction to it as you did, actually... and the old man just kept asking for more. He was spry for a fifty-six year old, let me tell you."

"Uh, right. Too much information, Gan," Yahiko remarked, too bemused to realize that he should be telling the large hooligan off for following him all the way to the edge of Shinshu. But Gan was, as usual, not listening to a word the younger man was saying.

"Oh, and did you know that I used to hang out with a weasel-looking girl about this high?" he gestured his open palm at abdomen level. "I swear, she used to chase me all over Kyoto like some lovesick... well, weasel. She's so cute! I could have sworn she had a crush on me!" Gan blabbered on and on, much to Yahiko's chagrin.

"Like I told you, you're giving me too much... Wait, weasel girl from Kyoto?" Yahiko queried as he did a classic spit-take upon realizing the implications of Gan's surprising revelation.

* * *

_A few minutes later..._

"Then she said, 'Does _these_ look like something a boy would have?' Wow. Just... wow. You should've seen it, Yoshi-boy." Gan wistfully exhaled with an unsuitable redness on his face that seemed more like a bad rash than a blush and a sickening look of ecstasy in his twinkling irises.

"Stop staring into space like that! You're creeping me out." Yahiko shuddered. "Seriously? You honestly thought Misao was a boy, so she showed you her boobs just like that?" the younger man incredulously asked with skeptical, half-lidded eyes, snidely appending, 'Or lack of boobs,' to himself. "That was awfully stupid of her. Was she drunk at the time?"

"Don't make it sound so vulgar! She didn't completely expose herself to me or anything, she only showed her cleavage and unveiled to me the... truth. And boobies. Although I do think drinks may have been involved at the time," Gan clarified, but Yahiko still felt somewhat discomfited about the idea of combining Misao and indecent exposure together.

"Wait. She has cleavage? This _is_ Makimachi Misao we're talking about, right?" Yahiko didn't bother avoiding the metal bat that landed hard on his waiting noggin. Even he knew he deserved it.

Gan sneezed and shivered, feeling the onset of winter grab hold of his skin with a hair-raising grip. He wondered if the people he was presently remembering from way back were suffering similar sneezing fits.

"Before I knew it, Weasel-chan and I weren't talking to each other anymore. Then, from out of the blue, she disclosed that she'd found someone else and I should leave her alone immediately, just like that! So I did what any hot-blooded guy with a blunt object for a weapon would do: I challenged this Aoshi-sama of hers for a duel to win her heart!"

Yahiko extricated his face from the ground; it wasn't a facefault, his face had been there for quite sometime because Gan didn't even bother picking him up after walloping him with that big blunt metal stick of his.

Truth be told, the boy actually felt like keeping his face planted to the ground after hearing Gan's cheesy confession. "So what happened? You're still alive and in one piece, so obviously Aoshi didn't bother fighting you. Did you make the duel into an eating contest again?"

Yahiko expected Gan to react to his baited insult... the boy purposely loaded his statements with seeming arrogance to steer their conversation to a far more palatable, if a bit violent, course... but instead, the ruffian merely looked at him with pathetic, liquid-brown eyes.

"Just as I charged at that Aoshi guy, declaring my undying love for the weasel girl, she slapped me."

"..."

"She then said, 'Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once: You are not my boyfriend! I don't even know you! You're just some crazy, loser, stalker goon! You are not my boyfriend, you are not my friend, and you are not my _ anything_!'

"That's harsh, man." Yahiko paused in mid-stride as something occurred to him just then. "Did 'Weasel-chan' tell you outright that Aoshi was her 'true love', or did you find out some other way?"

"Er, about that..."

* * *

_Fifteen minutes later..._

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Yahiko laughed to his heart's content as he took out a piece of folded paper, a makeshift wooden board, and a spiffy new Waterman and Wirt fountain pen that Tokyo Police Chief Uramura gave him as a present for handling the kidnapping crisis at the Kasshin Shinto Dojo last year, and started writing Gan's accounts of Misao for posterity's sake. "Kenshin and the others will _love_ this! And then what happened, Gan?"

"Well, to tell you the truth..." Blushing from head to toe, Gan softly whispered a couple of things into Yahiko's ear, which made the young boy giggle in boyish delight. They made for quite a sight, with passersby quickly shuffling away from them after seeing their antics, but for the most part, Yahiko found the humiliation at his expense worth it for the mounds of dirt on Misao he'd inadvertently gotten from the least likely of sources.

"Really? My goodness, I had no idea! U-huh. U-huh. Oh my... HAHAHAHAHA! Oh, and she has a mole where? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Then that makes it bad luck for her to go into sea faring trips! Oh, and what did she call Aoshi that one time in...? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Yahiko was in hysterics, barely able to jut down everything Gan was revealing to him, but he persevered. This was just too good to let pass.

Also, he made a mental footnote to himself to warn the Kamiyas not to read this section of his letter in front of Kenji, because it simply wasn't appropriate for young children to hear. Except, of course, he never really did make that imaginary annotation of his. Consequently, three months later, the unfortunate implications of his writings were eventually unveiled with nary a warning or disclaimer.

Yahiko's face flushed red as well once he reread Gan's little story from beginning to end. It seemed like a hilarious idea at the time, but after he realized the full implications of the hooligan's Misao-related anecdotes, he recoiled at the intimate details. It was unfortunate, but he could never erase and un-know what he'd just discovered. Hopefully, his selective memory would help him forget about it, but it was just too over-the-top to completely leave his mind.

Gan gave Yahiko an accusing look after he was done sharing his bawdy and amusing yet bittersweet account concerning his experiences back in Kyoto with the bubbly yet rambunctious Misao. "I'm happy that you've taken so much pleasure out of my heartbreak and loneliness, Yoshi-boy. The way she was screaming that Aoshi guy's name really broke my heart, you know. She already had me, but then she had to pull a stunt like that! How could she? Of course, I'm also at fault, but it was an accident! She didn't need to go into a psychotic rage every time she saw me from thereon end!"

"I disagree. After what happened, I do think that she has every _right_ to go into a psychotic rage every time she saw you from thereon end," Yahiko disputed flatly before crumpling the paper he just scribbled on and throwing it into a nearby bush. But he then remembered the breakneck Kecho Giri to the head that Misao gave him during her and Aoshi's visit to the Kamiya Dojo last year, which prompted him to take the crumpled piece of paper he just threw away, un-crumple it, and put it back into his cloth-wrapped pack.

The weasel girl may have apologized for overreacting to Yahiko's callous teasing of her and her never-will-be relationship with the Oniwabanshu Okashira during their special spring reunion and picnic, but the boy wasn't about to let her get away with her transgressions that easily; he received more bruises and sprains during her "I am weasel, hear me SCREECH!" episode than all of his unarmored kendo duels combined.

Gan curiously stared at Yahiko who, despite having shared trauma over uncovering a little too much dirt on Misao's past, still scribbled the rest of the hooligan's story down on an improvised notepad... after initially throwing information away beforehand, even. "More to the point, what's with all that writing and scribbling, Yoshi-boy? Are you working for a newspaper or something? And what's your connection with Weasel-chan anyway? Did you know her from somewhere?"

"It's nothing! Don't mind me!" Yahiko insisted as he folded the fresh sheet of paper and hid it inside his furoshiki-wrapped belongings. He should've torn those scandal-laden memos apart and scattered them to the wind, but then again, the ten-year-old kid inside of him just _had_ to record everything he'd heard for the sake of using it as blackmail fodder. After all, Kenshin Himura-Kamiya was swordsman who served as a paragon of virtue to all, not him.

Of course, in the end, Yahiko decided never to send those pieces of information to the Kamiyas and Tsubame or use it to blackmail Misao at any point in time; this was because he realized that he did _not_ want to have an awkward conversation about it with Misao. Ever. Before that, he'd originally opted to send it with some sort of footnote, but he felt it looked too awkward, so he just chose to leave that page out of his letter altogether.

As such, it was too bad that, through a comedy of errors and fluked carelessness, he would eventually forget about throwing Misao's deep-dark-secrets-on-two-sheets-of-paper in the trash and end up sending the whole collection of writings as one package without so much as a warning about their content.

'My bad,' Yahiko would think a month later. Yes, it was indeed _his_ bad.

* * *

_As the duo approached Akahori's not-so-humble abode..._

"So you know who Weasel-chan is? You've known her for six years already? Huh. Small world," Gan commented with a nod of idle wonderment. "Is she still as lively and violent as I remember her?"

"Pretty much," Yahiko replied tiredly as the pair passed the Shinshu Market, the purveyor of the fish stall whom they just talked to earlier waving at them enthusiastically.

From there, with shut eyes and a cross-shaped vein on his forehead, the younger man impatiently stated, "You can spare me the buddy-buddy act now, Gan. Looks like you've gotten what you wanted and wormed your way into my business yet again. You caught me; I was going to Akahori's mansion without telling you and Minoe in order to become one of the bodyguards assigned to protect him in his upcoming assassination. Are you happy now?"

Gan stared at Yahiko and blathered, "I was doing what now? I thought that we were talking about Weasel-chan!"

It was Yahiko's turn to glare disbelievingly at Gan. "Yeah, but you were just using that to get my guard down as I went into Akahori's mansion to apply as a bodyguard... right?"

"Who the hell cares about Yui Horie? I was just relating to you a tale about my life like I usually do. You never listened to any of it until now, and it just so happened that when you did, you coincidentally knew who it was that I was talking about. Don't use a funny coincidence to fuel your obvious bias and vitriol against me, Yoshi-boy," Gan reasoned out at length, which made Yahiko feel somewhat sheepish over his behavior.

"Okay, fine. Fair enough. I'm sorry," the aspiring vagabond begrudgingly apologized, but then suspiciously challenged, "So what's your _real_ reason for stalking me, Gan?"

"Hey. Cut it out with the stalking thing, man. Weasel-chan gave me enough of that crap when we were dating," Gan chastened Yahiko with a wag of his finger.

"You _weren't_ dat... Whatever. What's your real reason for _following_ me?" Yahiko rephrased.

Gan shrugged, then imparted, "I never got to say thank you for getting me out of that cock-hen dilemma and my food debt in one brilliant stroke. Well, it was actually the nice soba lady who did all that, and of course I had to sacrifice what could have been a champion roost... _chicken_, but at least you were willing to offer your winnings to pay off part of my debt. So yes, thank you. I really appreciated it," as he made a serious face while inwardly gloating at the fact that he got to rub salt into Yahiko's gaffe-induced wounds. Manhandling emotionally vulnerable people was almost second nature to him.

Yahiko gulped, not quite sure of how to react. "Er, you're welcome?" he uncertainly murmured, waiting for the other slipper to drop. On the other hand, he was impressed that Gan could actually man up and give thanks to where thanks was due, which made him see the criminal-looking goon in a new light.

"Don't you wish you've paid my food bills with the money you've won from me beforehand just so we wouldn't have to go through all that trouble of finding out the true gender of Sanosuke and nearly getting lynched by a mob of disgruntled gamblers from the very start?" Gan casually asked, to which Yahiko glibly retorted, "Know when to stop while you're ahead, dude. It'll be good for your health."

"Good answer. And apology accepted." Gan rubbed his hands together happily. "Now that we've gotten everything settled, let's go ahead and storm off to wherever you're supposed to go and do whatever it is you want to do!"

"Hold on just a goddamn minute! _We_ are going to do no such thing._ I_ am going to Akahori's mansion, and _you_ are going to stay out of my way." Yahiko stopped his determined pace in mid-saunter and faced the Contrary Gan. "I knew it. You _were_ trying to play with my sympathies to stalk and victimize me yet again! No. Uh-uh. Never again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice..."

"You can't get fooled again?" Gan offered.

"Shut up. Bottom line is that you're not going with me, and that's final!" Yahiko ordered resolutely, stomping his feet to add to the effect. "I may have offered to help you out with your little wild goose chase in the past..."

"Which you contributed greatly to by allowing me to enter a genderless chicken in a cockfight," Gan noted.

"Stop that. Yes, fine, in hindsight, I should've reigned you in, had that hunk of metal you call a weapon pawned, and cut the Sakaguchi's losses then and there, but that's not the point!" Yahiko thought for a long ten seconds in order to firmly grasp the elusive point that they were apparently missing.

"The _point_ that you stick your nose into other people's business in a misguided attempt to celebrate your 'coming of age' thing, but in reality, you make things far worse than better because of your meddling? Because I've been wanting to bring that point up ever since Kaori-neechan bullied you into catching little old me for the sake of an unpaid food bill," came Gan's... pardon the pun... on the nose assessment of what he thinks the point should be about.

"It's really my fault because I continue listening to the things that you say." Yahiko rubbed his temples in growing frustration. "The point here is that it doesn't pay to be a Good Samaritan. Man, it's almost as if I'm the one who's done something wrong!"

Inhaling deeply to calm his frayed nerves, Yahiko recommended to Gan, "Here's what you're supposed to do. Now that you've thanked me for my token gesture to bail you out, you can now leave me alone and go about your merry way, never to be seen by me again. For the love of Kami-sama, just go away. You do what you want to do, and I'll do what I want to do. Understand?"

Gan twiddled his fingers in a manner better suited for a clumsily adorable teenage girl. "But what about our camaraderie? The trials and tribulations we've experienced together? All the people we've met? All the kicks to the crotch that I've suffered? Don't tell me that was all for naught!"

Yahiko harrumphed. "I won't tell you that, but you know it's true. Besides which, you deserved all those things you went through. Minoe and I didn't... or at least, I think Minoe had nothing to do with it."

The young samurai blinked. "Anyway, where is Minoe? I thought he was with you when I tried to lose you guys back in the restaurant. Good thing you were able to pay him back for the meat buns you've unthinkingly eaten. You should be thanking him _and_ apologizing to him for all his sacrifices."

Gan scratched his temple. "Patches had no change for a whole yen, so he handed me my money back and asked me to help him get spare change from you. I then lost him in the crowd when we went looking for you."

Yahiko raised an eyebrow at Gan. "You bastard. You just took the money and left Minoe to rot, didn't you?"

Gan looked away and whistled not-so-innocently. "That's really not my problem, kiddo. Actually, I even helped him find you when you suddenly left us in the dust without so much as a good-bye. Not that I blame you for bolting; I'm just noting a fact."

"You..." Yahiko fumed before letting out a choice string of expletives that ended with, "jerk! Are you trying to blame me for something you're responsible for? Unbelievable." He turned his head away from Gan and snorted. "Why am I still even talking to you? I'm going now. If anything, you should follow Minoe and _find a way_ to pay your debt to him!"

Yahiko immediately ran off, leaving the Flabbergasted Gan to contemplate his responsibilities.

* * *

_Later still, just beyond the gates of Yahiko's intended destination... _

"Hi there, Yoshi-boy!" Gan waved to Yahiko at the entrance of Akahori's (formerly Tani's) large mansion, the whole front yard teeming with Yokohama, Gunma, Tokyo, and Shinshu Police as well as several armies of hired goons for good measure. Indeed, Gan fit right in with the sea of weapon-wielding, chopstick-chewing, no good sons of guns.

"..." Yahiko glowered. "What the hell are you doing here, Gan?"

"I followed your advice and went to find Patches," Gan happily divulged.

Yahiko crossed his arms, unconvinced. "And?"

"Coincidentally, the guy Patches kept talking about... his Raiden-sempai or whoever... is the leader of a group called the Togakudan; spies that helped the Bakufu safeguard their information sixteen years ago during the Bakumatsu. They're the ones Akahori hired to do a background check on this newly formed Battousai Group. Imagine that."

Yahiko proceeded to throttle the big dumb oaf. "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, YOU OVERGROWN FREAK! Look, I'm sure you're a swell guy... I guess, give or take a few... a _lot_ of quirks and your gambling problem, sure... but you've been nothing but trouble ever since I met you! I was nearly slashed to death three weeks ago because of some stupid misunderstanding with an insane swordsman, and then I was faced with you and your androgynous chicken! I'm tired, hungry, sleepless, and over the edge! Don't push me, Gan! Don't push me!"

"You're welcome! Man, I do a guy a favor, and _this _is the thanks I get?" Gan halfheartedly complained as he picked his nose, which prompted Yahiko to try choking him harder. However, the boy was too exhausted to inflict the same damage Chizuru and the fish vendor managed.

"Yahiko-chi! Gan-chi!" Minoe greeted Yahiko from behind, which made the samurai jump right into Gan's arms like a blushing bride-to-be. The boy certainly kept the blushing part of the awkward visual once he realized what he'd just done.

"What the...? Were you two raised in a barn or something? Don't sneak up on people like that!" Yahiko protested to Minoe as he brusquely got off his awkwardly intimate closeness with the amused Gan. "And you, stop smirking!"

Yahiko was about to go into another drawn-out tirade when he saw Minoe's scuffed-up and bruised face. The black eye was particularly noticeable. "Oh man. What the hell happened to you?"

Minoe waved off Yahiko's concern and overlooked the guilty glance Gan gave him. "It's really my fault that Raedo-sempai did this to me. Not only did I _ not_ deliver the meat buns on time, I was also late in reporting back to my post. I always end up like this because of my absentmindedness; when we went off into our misadventure with Sano-chi, I've kind of forgotten myself again. Don't worry about it; I mostly deserve this punishment."

Before Yahiko could beg to differ, pointing out Gan's (and, avowedly, his own) partial responsibility, the bandanna-wearing gambler beat him to the punch, stating, "Who did this to you, Patches? Some guy named Raiden, right?"

"Wha... Hey, Gan! Don't tell me that you're going to beat up the guy who beat Minoe up! You're just going to make things worse!" Yahiko blurted out in warning, but Gan wasn't listening.

"Minoe! What are you doing there? Get back to your post!" a bearded man who wore the same purple and blue outfit Minoe sported called out, and Gan immediately pounced on him, holding him up in the air and disjointedly shouting, "Are you Raiden? Are you the one who beat up Patches? Tell me!"

The man squirmed underneath Gan's grasp. "Raiden? Patches? Who the hell are they? My name's Ichiro! Let go of me! Respect your elders, you fat, idiotic lout!"

Yahiko and Minoe were too distracted by Gan's antics to notice the punch that came flying towards the timid, eye-patch-wearing man. "Are these the little boys you were playing with yesterday, Minoe? Tsk, tsk. And here I thought you learned your lesson. Maybe I should beat it right into head again, eh?"

Gan let go of his unshaven captive and turned sharply towards the newcomer, with Yahiko following suit. Just like Ichiro and Minoe, the lanky yet muscular man was dressed in a similar fashion, complete with decorative bandages. He held a bokuto on one hand and wore a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "You got a nice look on you, fatso. Are you going to swear vengeance upon me for beating up this retard or something?"

Grinding his teeth, Gan stepped forward and cracked his knuckles at the arrogant man. "You're Raiden, I suppose?"

The man's lip curled in puzzlement. "No, that's not my name."

Gan nodded before traipsing to the other side of the humongous residence where more of the purple-gi-wearing Togakudan were hanging out, intending to discover where "Raiden" actually was.

Though still a bit nonplussed by Gan's unbelievable stupidity, Yahiko was desensitized enough to move towards the Togakudan bully and ask, "You're _ Raedo_-sempai, right?" as he felt an odd sense of familiarity fill him up from inside his gut.

Raedo huffed. "Who wants to know?"

"Myojin Yahiko, Tokyo Samurai," Yahiko confidently declared as he gripped the handle of his cloth-wrapped sakabatou and gave the despicable man a cursory once-over.

"I'm Nagaoka Suzuki, but people here know me as Togakudan's Raedo-aniki," Raedo introduced himself while Yahiko's breathing became shallow and strained. The supposed Nagaoka then rubbed his fist mockingly at the cowed Minoe's head. "Not Raedo-chi, not Raedo-tan. I'm glad Minoe was able to settle for Raedo-sempai, but that's still wrong! I strongly suspect that your friend here is a couple of eggs shy of a dozen."

The teenager tried really hard to keep himself from doing what Gan meant to do earlier, gripping his weapon's pommel tight, but he was perturbed nonetheless by how this Suzuki Nagaoka character acted a lot like a certain Mikio Nagaoka... the man who forced Tsubame to almost commit robbery for the sake of an antiquated custom of, in Yahiko's eyes, enslavement. "Do you know Mikio?"

Raedo perked up and familiarly slapped Yahiko's shoulder, much to the boy's surprise and distaste. "Cousin Mikio from Tokyo! How is he doing, by the way? Was he your drinking buddy or were you one of his gang members? He gets into so much trouble nowadays! Hahahaha!" The Togakudan Leader talked about his relative as though he were describing the precocious actions of an infant.

Yahiko considered punching the dissonantly amiable Raedo's face... not only for Minoe's sake, but also to uphold his principles... when Gan came barreling back to the fray and confronted the Shinshu Nagaoka. "You lied to me! You are _so_ the Raiden-sempai who beat my buddy, Patches, up!"

"Who the hell's lying, you big slab of dumb? My name isn't Raiden, you ignorant piece of shit," Raedo threateningly cursed as he glared yakuza-style at the big slab of dumb. He afterwards backed away as the ignorant piece of shit towered over him by a good foot or so.

"Whatever your name is, the bottom line here is that you beat Patches up," Gan gravely spoke as he lifted the kneeling Minoe down by the scruff of his collar and presented him to Raedo like a one-eyed kitten. "I don't like that. I don't like it when people suffer because of the things I've done."

Yahiko choked on his spit at that one. Gan possessed about twice as many contradictions as Kenshin had enemies, the Tokyoite reckoned.

Unmoved, Raedo raised a bushy eyebrow at Gan and challenged, "What are you going to do about it, then? Eh, big boy?"

To Yahiko and Minoe's surprise, instead of throttling the vile excuse for a human being, Gan put the eye-patched man aside, dropped to his knees, and bowed in front of Raedo. "It's not his fault! You should kick my ass instead! I have the money to pay you back for those stupid meat buns and a little extra, so stop hurting the poor guy!"

Raedo nonchalantly shrugged, snapped his fingers to call the nearest of the Togakudan, then everyone proceeded to stomp a mud hole into Gan's bloated innards. Unfortunately, much to Yahiko's amazement, ten people against one wasn't enough to even faze the boulder-like hooligan.

'No wonder my techniques weren't working on that idiot! It's like he's too stupid to realize he's in pain! Are crotch kicks his only weakness?' the boy reflected, half-tempted to help out his luckless acquaintance, and half-enticed to join in on the beat-down.

Little did Yahiko know that Gan was used to getting beat up whenever he couldn't pay his food bill, seemingly taking in all the bad karma that fellow food bandit Sanosuke Sagara was immune to.

Gan went from district to district in the same old rut, falling in love with girls who wouldn't want anything to do with him and forcing himself to gamble and drown his sorrows in alcohol time and again in order to subsist.

Which was why he was amazed that Yahiko and Minoe were able to break his cycle of doom, making him somewhat indebted enough to kind of pay his food debt for the first time in a long time, helping him sort of win a cockfight, and generally stopping... or at least interrupting... the downward spiral of his life.

Alas, Gan got a surprise of his own when Raedo decided, "You know what? On second thought, I don't want to beat you up. Beating up someone like you is too boring for my tastes; it isn't worth it," and suddenly did a roundhouse kick to Minoe's jaw.

"DAMN!" both Yahiko and Gan exclaimed as Minoe dropped to the ground like a sack of hammers.

"Bastard," Yahiko bristled, but Gan merely pushed the boy away and used his own body to block Raedo's next few kicks and punches. "Beat _me_ up and stop picking on Patches, dammit! I deserve it!"

"You mustn't do this, Gan-chi! It's all right! I'm used to this. I deserve this. Please, don't impede my punishment any longer! You'll only make Raedo-sempai angrier!"

"No. Beat me up instead," Yahiko requested to Raedo with a glare that promised each and every last punch and kick he and his two friends received would be paid back to the smug Nagaoka in full.

Raedo looked at Yahiko quizzically, sighed, and observed with a crooked smile, "I thought you'd be a lot 'cooler' than this, Myojin Yahiko. You're not really buddies with my cousin, are you? Mikio must have kicked your pasty ass from Tokyo to Hokkaido with that kind of lame attitude of yours. You're pathetic."

With another snap of his fingers, the head of the Togakudan called off his gang of hoodlums, then offhandedly told Minoe, "Meet us at the ballroom hall at around eight or so. There will be a meeting. Don't be late from playing with your life partners or something."

"Y-Yes, Raedo-sempai!" Minoe managed to say in between gurgling spurts of blood in his mouth, amazed that Raedo didn't push the issue of battering him and his newfound friends any further.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **Gathering clouds.

_Misao's paraphrased (and harsh) "You are not my boyfriend!" quote came from "My Life as a Teenage Robot", which is one of the most underrated shows ever made. Also, the little plot point of Gan doing a trademark Nuhiro Obaga greet-from-behind-then-get-smacked skit was taken straight from "The Rurouni's Guide to Idiocy" by Rurouni Gochan. All rights reserved. Would you believe that those gags are actually important plot points?_

**Maraming salamat po sa pagbabasa!_  
_**Abdiel


	13. Chapter 13

On October 31, 1884, during the third week of Yahiko Myojin's recovery from the sword wounds he suffered at the hands of Soujiro Seta, a flash mob of peasants and farmers claiming to be part of the Jiyu Minken Undo (Freedom and People's Rights Movement) spread chaos and bedlam across Chichibu, Saitama.

The overtaxed and oppressed people went straight to their usurers and burned off all records of their debts. Afterwards, the Meiji Government suspected the ensuing riot to be an attempt by the Jiyuto (Liberal) Party to overthrow the Choshu-and-Satsuma-dominated administration. Incidentally, the Jiyuto disbanded right on the eve of that particular event... on October 29... which Satoru Sakaguchi mentioned to his daughter Kyoko after arriving at Shinshu from Yokohama.

Eventually, the Japanese Imperial Army and the Tokyo Metropolitan Police suppressed the rebellion with superior firepower and overwhelming force. All the same, Tetsuo Akahori's largely unattended meeting within Jusanro Tani's repossessed mansion in Shinshushin, Nagano happened during the aftermath of that momentous event.

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_Is this chapter _finally_ going to be an episode of substance and consequence? Well, let's not jinx anything by making presumptuous promises! _

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 13: Meeting at the Mansion**

* * *

_Within the limits of Jusanro Tani's former mansion lying outside Shinshushin... _

"Way to go, Yoshi-boy! You sure saved our butts that time!" Gan applauded after bowling over the Togakudan dog-pile atop him without so much as a grunt or a "Pardon me." He soon after unleashed harsh laughter fit for a king so disfigured by inbreeding that he couldn't chew his food by himself, which overshadowed his intention to convey his happiness over the fact that men, in contrast to women and children, usually kept off the crotch area when involved in a contest of fisticuffs.

With a self-induced slap to the face, Yahiko slid his hand from forehead to chin, gave his supposed comrades token sidelong glances, and wished that the ground would eat him up then and there.

On his left was a pumpkin-haired, turnip-banged, eye-patched, and wig-wearing weakling, and on his right was a compulsive gambler, stalker, and hoodlum loser wannabe who could create large craters on a whim yet had an infant's grasp of right and wrong. All the trio needed now was a dusty soup bowl for loose change and they could pass themselves off as eccentric, street-performing hobos.

"Uncool, huh? Yeah. Maybe we are," the hedgehog-haired young lad paraphrased Raedo's allegations as a fleeting desire to dig a hole on the ground to hide his head with teased his mind. He then remembered Gan doing just that to him and Minoe yesterday, which made his shoulders slump in defeat.

"Yay! The Sanbaka are back together again!" Minoe's face bloomed like a dandelion, and just as quickly wilted like one after Gan and Yahiko attempted to "draw wine" from his head in traditional winemaking fashion.

"DON'T CALL US THE THREE STOOGES, YOU DUMBASS!" the pair echoed before realizing that they were hypocritically beating Minoe up after they saved him from getting beaten up. "Er, sorry," came another unintentional chorus from the two.

Tittering as though he were playing with a bunch of rambunctious neighborhood scamps, Minoe rubbed his head to ease his pain. "No worries. Like I told you, I'm used to it. These bandages aren't just for show, you know." However, his hunched posture and shaking hands conveyed an altogether different message.

The trio walked around the estate's sloping lawn and expansive garden at a deliberate pace, taking their sweet time to admire the fresh, earthy scent of manicured grass, the scenic view of Nagano's Hida mountains, the spotless marble statues of foreign origin whose significance went over their Japanese heads, and the exquisite way the western-style, chocolate-and-cream mansion blended with the reds, browns, oranges, sepias, tans, burgundies, and other color variations of the surrounding flora and foliage.

It was a shame then that the three weren't paying that much attention to their ambient, painting-like surroundings, their heads wrapped around more trivial... or perhaps not-so-trivial... pursuits.

"What the hell is up with you?" Yahiko asked the runt of the Togakudan pack as he turned his head from side-to-side in cadence of each word he spoke. The Tokyoite's attempts at eye contact were met with a downward gaze and a helpless shrug on the kowtowed Minoe's part. "How can you let that guy bully you like that? Be a man! You should be able to stand up for yourself! You should man up and punch him on the nose when he pulls crap like that!"

Minoe tilted his head in askance and looked at Yahiko with a flushed face and a pursed mouth before choking down a melodious, high-pitched titter. "I... I'm afraid I can't do that."

The off-put Yahiko leaned back and rubbed his nose as he stared at Minoe without blinking for a full second. "W-What? I mean, why...?" He could've sworn that the boyish oddball giggled at him for some reason.

Minoe cleared his throat, brushed his turnip bangs back, and waved off Yahiko's concern while swiftly changing the subject. "No, never mind. Uh, in regards to Raedo-sempai's temper, let's be reasonable. I _did_ make him and my teammates starve throughout breakfast. Also, I still owe them breakfast money that they're probably going to take from my share of the loot once this assassination matter is over. The grant that Akahori-dono-chi gave us is pretty hefty, and he's considered an expert in the field of domestic spying partly because of the Togakudan's research."

Gan elbowed Yahiko aside and waltzed in front of Minoe, jumping right into the conversation before the samurai kid could bring up a certain, unimportant detail regarding the seventy-two sen he still owed the Togakudan. "What _does_ your team specialize in? You told me earlier that they handle research. What kind of research do they take care of exactly?"

Minoe owlishly jerked his head to the side in order to keep Gan from disappearing into the blind spot created by his eye patch. That particular quirk of his was partly cultivated by his fellow Togakudan companions' antics whenever they were in a "bully the new guy" mood.

"I'd love to say, 'We take care of covert government information as secret service agents' or something to that effect, but then I'd be lying; that'd sound too cool for it to refer to us. We're more in the business of spying on or blackmailing our clients' enemies. We're bottom-rung, bottom-feeding spies, to be sure."

"Huh. So the Togakudan is sort of like the bakufu's Oniwabanshu, only a lot more pathetic," Gan supposed, which made Yahiko's ears perk up. The brutish oaf took Minoe's word with a grain... or even a whole silo... of salt because of the victimized spy's understandably biased views, but otherwise believed him for the most part. "Both your groups are composed of spies and bodyguards as well, you know."

"You're giving us way too much credit. It's more like the Togakudan is the antithesis of the Oniwabanshu. We're not as cool as them, we run away from a major fight nine times out of ten, and we're basically glorified snitches. There's really no comparison, truth be told," Minoe divulged as Yahiko mouthed, "Glorified?" with an upturned nose.

"Hmmm? Antithesis? That's a hell of a big word for you, Patches," Gan jibed, to which Minoe replied, "U-huh. And if you'd like, I'll say it to you slower," without missing a beat.

"Cut the 'Manzai Comedy Hour' act. We're getting sidetracked," berated Yahiko before pulling Minoe aside and further querying, "What do you know about the Battousai Group? Amakusa Shogo? Is Amakusa the same guy as the red-haired, cross-scarred man who finished off a whole gang of poser terrorists three weeks ago? Tell me, Minoe!"

"Sure! I'll tell you everything you need to know, Raedo-sempai! Just please stop shaking me like a cowbell! I'll do whatever you want!" Minoe beseeched as he resisted the urge to heave _and_ hoe, which at least made the snarling and moody Yahiko come back to his senses.

The former street rat snorted in dismay, relinquishing his fervent hold on the pirate doppelganger. "Man, you really are a wimp, aren't you? I can't believe you've managed to join that rough-and-tumble crew, what with you being such a mayflower and all," was the boy's passive-aggressive way of deflecting his guilt over his overreaction.

"Not to mention that mouth of his. Even with his goofy smile and unassuming manner, he has a way with words. It's not really surprising why his Raiden-sempai pummels him so much," Gan interjected, still stinging from Minoe's earlier rejoinder.

At that moment, Yahiko's eyes shone as though he'd just witnessed the flowery afterimage of a Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu technique. After putting two and two together in regards to what made Minoe's personality tick, he realized, 'A guy who looks like a total pushover but has a sharp, sarcastic tongue? Huh. That sounds mighty familiar.'

Yahiko was about to superimpose the image of the coconut-husk-wigged and eye-patch-wearing nut with the vision of the carroty-haired, girlish-looking, and cross-scarred rurouni when Gan interposed, "Now that we're all here, we might as well apply for that bodyguard position. I'm not privy to what's going on, but whoever it is we need to stop, I'm sure we'll do fine."

"Stop pretending that the plans you've intended to do from the very beginning are things you've come up with just now!" Yahiko yelped at Gan, but was subsequently blindsided by Minoe's patented burst of inappropriate exuberance.

"Really? I'm so happy! We three are working like a team now! The Sanbaka are here to stay!"

Yahiko and Gan didn't bother admonishing the stubborn Minoe using weapons, hatred, and violence. For a change, they simply decided then and there to ignore Minoe whenever he referred to their group as the Three Stooges. Or rather, they promised to do so right after hammering Minoe into the ground like a railroad spike. 'Next time, for sure,' they pledged.

"Us Three Stooges should always stick together!" Minoe was right; he truly was immune to getting rung like a New Year's bell on a daily, even hourly, basis.

After spitting out some blood from his mouth, Minoe grabbed Yahiko by the shoulders and offered, "Come on, Yahiko-chi! I'll tell you all the stuff Raedo-sempai thought he'd hidden away from me about the Battousai Group! That way, you two can help me catch one of those rebels and give me the push I need to join the upper echelons of the Togakudan! I'll even use my would-be influence to make you two honorary Togakudan members!"

Yahiko's mouth crooked into something that was neither a smile nor a frown. "Er, no thanks on the Togakudan offer, Minoe; but I'm all for getting more information about the Battousai Group. Tell me what you know." His quirky lips eventually curved into an outright smirk.

Gan backed away and gestured at both Minoe and Yahiko with upraised hands and a wide stance. "Whoa. Settle down. _You_ were able to pilfer information out of a group whose whole existence relied on hiding information, Patches?" The thug smoothened his bandanna and straightened the collar of his open vest. "Well, I guess you'd have to be _that_ sneaky, or else it wouldn't make any sense why you were accepted into the Togakudan in the first place."

"Mochiron mochi!" Minoe bleated.

"What have you got for us, Minoe?" Yahiko pressed, leaning forward to better hear the zany yet helpful amateur spy's words.

"Well, because they're called the Battousai _Group_, it's only natural that there'll be more than one of them, right? In regards to the _Battousai_ part of their name, it stems from their modus operandi of having their individual members incorporate certain aspects of Battousai lore into their fighting styles and specialties. For example, a member of theirs, Amakusa Shogo, has a sword style rumored to be the closest technique there is to the strongest Ishin Shishi manslayer's Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. I've even heard of a Battousai of Speed, a Battousai of Strength, and so on and so forth."

Yahiko slammed his fist on the palm of his hand before waving his index finger around in an excitable manner. "Oh, I see. They call themselves the Battousai Group because their leader is a Battousai wannabe... all of them are Battousai wannabes! I get it now."

Gan kept on nodding his head throughout the whole dialogue in feigned interest; the fact that he wasn't interrupting his fellow stooges anymore was quite telling.

The Son of Tokyo Samurai let out a cathartic sigh. Unlike Keisuke and his goons, the people he was about to confront didn't merely use the Battousai name in vain. They backed up their claim with actual talent and ability in the sense that at least one of them was skilled enough to handle a whole legion of thugs. Granted, it was still a shameful use of Kenshin's infamous moniker regardless, but at least it wasn't as shameful as what the Hiruma brothers or Kyoko Sakaguchi's tormentor did.

"Then again, none of those clowns in the Battousai Group could ever match Kenshin's speed, strength, and skill. Amakusa may have allegedly killed a thousand policemen, but who cares? No one could possibly keep up with Kenshin, especially when he was still in his prime. It's the quality of the opposition that counts, not the quantity."

"Huh. You talk as if this Battousai guy was the shit or something. I bet you that he won't even last a second against guys like Hijikata Toshizo or a healthy Okita Souji." The Shinsengumi-obsessed Gan had never heard of the acclaimed "Strongest Hitokiri of the Bakumatsu", and it showed.

Yahiko raspberried Gan. "Who was it that won the Bakumatsu anyway? Certainly not the overhyped, overrated, strength-through-numbers Shinsengumi and their bakufu overlords! Besides, I've seen Kenshin wipe the floor with Saito Hajime firsthand, and that wolf-like bastard with cockroach antenna for bangs is probably the strongest swordsman of the lot! The Shinsengumi aren't so tough!" the Kenshin-worshipping inheritor of the sakabatou shot back, even though he should've known better.

Gan moved his neck backwards as his mouth formed an ear-to-ear grin that made his chin appear twice its normal size. "A wolf-like bastard with cockroach antenna for bangs? Jeez, everybody knows that Saito Hajime has a sleepy-eyed expression and isn't a bastard at all. The Saito you know must be some sort of faker, a fictional character, or an urban legend! Whoever 'created' that Saito of yours deserves to be written a mountain of hate letters from _real_ Shinsengumi fans everywhere!"

"Whatever, you obsessed fanboy," Yahiko groused, his forehead bearing down on his brows' ridges so hard that it veiled his eyes. 'He probably never even met the guy.'

Just then, Minoe took a page out of Yahiko's book and pulled the boy aside in order to query, "Really, Yahiko-chi? You know who Hitokiri Battousai is? Can you tell me more about him? Please? It'll really help me out in moving through the ranks of the Togakudan!"

Yahiko's face paled at the sight of the demure Minoe. He went through a couple of soundless gasps and false starts before somehow squeaking, "Er, sure. Sure. I'll help you out, Minoe. But seriously, why are you even bothering with the Togakudan? They're a bunch of bullying losers anyway. You should get better career prospects than those snitching assholes! They're not worth the trouble."

Minoe's eyes sparkled so brightly, nearby moths would've circled around them. "You mean it, Yahiko-chi? Because I'll leave the Togakudan in a heartbeat to join the Sanbaka!"

"I know nothing of these Three Stooges you speak of," Yahiko deadpanned, but was caught flatfooted as Minoe waxed melancholic... or rather, waxed despair masked in implausible deniability.

"I don't really mind the things Raedo-chi... I mean, Raedo-sempai and the others put me through. There are worse things in life than a bump or two on the head. In a sense, the things they do to me mean nothing to me at all. Really, I'm okay."

"Gee, Patches. That sounded really pathetic. Thanks for making me feel better about myself... I think," Gan shared as he gave the cowed Togakudan understudy an affectionate pat on the butt. 'Hmmm. That was softer than I expected.'

A hair-raising shriek, a slap, and a wrapped-up sakabatou strike later, the unfazed yet lumpy Gan elaborated, "You should get better role models than that chamber pot you call a leader. Hey, how about Kondo Isami-sama? Now there's a man among men that a girly boy like you should emulate!"

Minoe's lips curved ever-so-slightly as he muttered through fluttering lashes and pinkish cheeks, "No, thank you, I already have a role model to follow." Realizing that he'd said too much after both of his unwilling cohorts peered at him for far too long, he backtracked, "And Yahiko-chi has a role model too! Himura Battousai, isn't it? Oh, if only I were like him. Powerful, strong, ruthless, unbeatable..."

"...Effeminate, kind to a fault, possesses a martyr complex, looks good in a dress," Yahiko enumerated, much to Minoe's confusion.

"Eh?"

'That wasn't exactly an 'oro', but it's close enough for me,' Yahiko mused. "Do you want to know who the real Himura Kenshin is?" He reflexively appended "Kamiya" to Kenshin's name in his mind, but then decided that doing so would just amount to him splitting hairs. "Well, you're already off to a good start. Come on, let's buy your sempai those meat buns they never got. My treat."

His eyes crinkling as he let out a genuine smile, Minoe bobbed his head and chirped, "M-Mochiron!"

* * *

The heads of Tetsuo Akahori and Soujiro Seta shot up and jerked towards the western-styled hinged doors of the repossessed mansion's study after hearing consecutive knocks of ascending speed reverberate upon the the thick, wooden surface.

Soujiro moved from the wall he was slumping on to answer the door, but stopped after Akahori motioned him to back down. Just then, the door swung open anyway with a booming echo that jarred and jolted the entire manor to attention.

Trinkets jiggled, and the room's token globe spun wildly as the open entryway brought upon two brisk-walking individuals whose dueling shadows swallowed the exposed parts of the carpeted floor. On the flipside, the dynamic entry of the stiff-lipped gentlemen served as a breath of fresh air to the overall cramped stuffiness that had entrapped the quarters.

At the very least, the two new arrivals had the courtesy of bowing and exchanging their respective greetings to Akahori and Soujiro before walking off to opposite sides of the room. The Ten Ken himself laughed off the entire affair as he shut the door and went straight to the bay windows that overlooked Nagano's famous mountain peaks. Politics amused him the way human nature did; the world in his eyes was nothing but contradictions without logic or sense.

"I'm sorry I'm late, everyone. I did the best I could to get here in time. I hope you understand," the younger of the two visitors... perhaps even the youngest person in the room next to Soujiro... apologized with a hand over his head, three low bows, a mustachioed smile, and a shrug of his shoulders.

"I was expecting a busier schedule today, what with last week's civil unrest nonsense putting Japan to a halt and all. Then again, I promised the Prime Minister to at least check on you and your affairs as a favor to him. I heard you're going to rid our government of yet another budding rebellion; I believe Japan has quite enough of those already."

The younger politician couldn't help but curl his lips into a snarl while the older gentleman opposite him exchanged hushed pleasantries with Akahori. "On the other hand, I should have expected _him_ to be here as well. I do hope that he and his cohorts are doing fine after disbanding their party _just before_ the Chichibu riots happened. That's a hell of a coincidence right there, if I do say so myself. Don't you agree, Akahori-san?"

Akahori choked back a chuckle as he nodded at his guest's insinuation before he strode towards a corner of the room just beside Soujiro, the windowed door, and the grandfather clock where he could get a better view of the upcoming proceedings. Meanwhile, the outspoken forty-five-year-old envoy helped himself with the open bottles of wine before hearing the person he'd just antagonized speak his mind.

"Huh. Is that so? Well, while I'm sure that the Rikken Kaishinto Party and the Prime Minister's cabinet are getting their undergarments up in a bunch just to pin the blame for the Chichibu incident on a disbanded party, the nation's widespread sentiment of dissatisfaction is hardly the fault of just one party," countered Akahori's oldest friend and confidant, a forty-nine-year-old diplomatic veteran who also supported the cause of the Jiyu Minken Undo under the banner of the now-defunct Jiyuto Party.

"Yes, because inciting rebellion among disgruntled peasants is the right way to go about addressing their woes. Nothing solves the problems of hunger, debts, and the high cost of living better than outright, mindless violence," came the rebuttal of Akahori's junior by just one year, his tone raised an octave higher and his face flushed with the anticipation of running an opponent through with the sharpness of his tongue.

"Of course, I should have expected as much from a person who plays on both sides of the fence. Because of what happened in Chichibu, every member of the Liberal Party should be tried for treason, especially when one considers the fact that they're even willing to take _criminals_ under their wing."

Fully aware of his compatriot's attempts at baiting him into an embarrassing temper tantrum, the aged diplomat stiffened his neck, paced towards the door, glanced at the paintings on the walls as he gathered his thoughts, halted, turned around, and carved through every last logical discrepancy of his tormentor's arguments with utmost impunity.

"Who's the criminal here? I myself have never conspired against my country or gotten involved in any embarrassing scandals, so I have nothing to hide from the Prime Minister or the Emperor. Besides which, I'm a _Choshu_ diplomat, so I have no vested interest in defending the innocence of the Jiyuto save for the sake of objectiveness."

He took a step forward, snatched his attacker's wine glass away, and put it on a nearby table to get the alcoholic's undivided attention. "So much for the administration's claims that the Jiyuto was responsible for the Jiyu Minken Undo's little coup. Then again, the logic leap they've taken in order to link the rebels acting in the name of the Freedom and People's Rights Movement together with the Liberal Party because they both have the word 'jiyu' in their names is nothing short of brilliant. Indeed, this is our leaders at work right there."

"That's the stupidest retort I've ever heard. With all due respect to an elder of your stature, I couldn't disagree more with what you're insinuating," the younger elected official hissed through his gnashed teeth and rictus grin.

The elder of the two debaters opened his mouth to protest, but his unspoken words shrunk back and sought refuge behind his throat in the face of the forty-five-year-old man's methodical onslaught.

"You're a self-admitted member of the Jiyu Minken Undo, your status as a Choshu diplomat be damned. Ergo, your assertion that the Jiyuto is being unfairly treated is a false premise because the Chichibu rebels themselves have directly attributed their actions under the banner of your precious Freedom and People's Rights Movement. Don't deny it, and don't try to spin this fact into something that's actually beneficial to you and your political career!"

The older statesman... the oldest one in the room, in fact... kept his voice heard despite the rising volume of his fellow guest's own intonation. "I don't deny my involvement with the Jiyu Minken Undo. I also don't deny that what those peasants did was unjust or illegal. However, they're merely a symptom of the general discontent of the entire country that must be addressed, lest the Meiji Government goes the way of the Shogunate in the face of this new age."

"Oh please. It's your liberal propaganda that's encouraging peasants and the working class to choose treason over patriotism! The radical and extremist ways of the Jiyuto is not how Japan will meet the dawn of the new century! Traditional values must be kept, or else we might as well let the foreigners run roughshod through our country with their exploitative treaties and whatnot!"

"You're overreacting. I myself as well as many others in the Jiyuto Party are opposed to the unequal treaties. In fact, the reason why so many peasants revolted from the get go is partly because of the lack of action in that front as well as the extreme amounts of debts they've acquired because of our high taxes."

"Are you now acting as the spokesman for these criminals? Have a bit of dignity; abandon your misguided beliefs so that you can still save face."

The elder had had enough of his inferior's insinuations. "Criminals? Save face? That's rich coming from a man with an actual criminal record! I'd ask you to clean up your act, but there's no way that'll happen because you just can't clean _dirt_. You should thank your lucky stars that you're part of the Prime Minister's clique, or he would've booted you off his cabinet long ago!"

"All right, I've heard enough," Akahori interrupted his visitors as he made them sit down on the nearby chairs and poured them a couple of drinks. "At times, it seems to me that all I really need to keep me up to speed is to have you two quarrel over the latest issues. But we've gotten to the point where we're drudging up ancient history, so it's best that we let the matter drop for now."

Akahori stooped down at the edge of his seat, interlinked his gloved hands together, and let the glint of his spectacles shield his probing eyes. "Now tell me, Inoue-kun. Kuroda-kun. As you can see, you're the only two of many who are supposed to be here in my little mock meeting. What brought you two all the way here in Nagano despite the threats to my life?"

* * *

Meanwhile, at the edge of the Nagano Prefecture's territory, a speeding, horse-drawn carriage holding a VIP of sorts headed straight into the mansion located at the outskirts of Shinshushin.

"Miss Akahori, we're about to approach your father's mansion. It's just a few more miles from where we are," the long-haired, pony-tailed driver of the stagecoach shouted amidst the thunderous thud of hooves.

A ghostly pale girl with blank, slate-gray eyes and creamy, milk-white hair idly nodded before staring at the glass pane that framed the blur of sight and sound outside of it. Her smooth, soft skin shone in stark contrast to the crimson sedan chair she nestled herself into like ivory wrapped in velvet.

"Thank you," the girl gently droned at the lanky and limber person sitting atop the coach's perch in an even monotone. Her previous attempts at introducing some sort of emotion into her inflection were met with horrendous results, so she believed she was actually doing him a small favor by sounding "nonchalant".

Her socked-and-sandaled feet rested firmly on the cushioned floor while her untouched lap cloth formed a puddle of fabric beside her. A pair of dark-tinted sunglasses given to her as a gift by some foreign dignitary whose name she'd long ago forgotten lay in the middle of the cloth.

Her ashen irises moved back and forth in a frantic pace, making it hard for her to focus her vision on any particular place or object. Her line of sight eventually traveled from the window to the driver in a pendulum of involuntary motion even as she shielded her eyes with her long, ivory hands whenever a particularly bright glare shimmered from outside the carriage window.

The tinted spectacles she had available served as her typical shield against the unforgiving sunlight. However, her other pair of glasses... the clear, prescription ones... transformed the things around her into vivid yet crooked parodies of themselves for some reason, so she ultimately decided against wearing any glasses if she could help it.

Oh right, she almost forgot; she was also being kidnapped by her own driver. That wasn't originally part of her weekly itinerary, but she was willing to accommodate this circumstance into her schedule. After all, it couldn't be helped.

It had already been three days since she and her coachman left the docks of Aomori. Neither of them had talked about the kidnapping issue, but at that point of their journey, neither of them needed to. At least, that was how the Akahori daughter viewed it; she couldn't speak for her kidnapper.

She should've suspected something was wrong as soon as she noticed no other hired help present at the wagon's dickey box. There was no footman on the footboards, no outrider escorting them to clear the way, no shotgun messenger to act as a guard, and not even a faithful carriage dog scampering beside the stagecoach. Yes, her father tended to dote on her in every conceivable way a wealthy man would; she wasn't oblivious to that fact, at least.

Moreover, she should've been more suspicious of the one coachman that offered her a ride from the harbor of Tsugaru, Aomori all the way to the distant region of Shinshushin, Nagano. None of her other servants dared disobey her father's implicit orders to keep her from straying away from the waterfront, so she shouldn't have been so trusting of her overeager driver.

In spite of this, none of her attendants were particularly helpful in her desire to not be imprisoned in the inn near the Aomori docks and to be at her father's side at this critical juncture of his political career, so she figured she might as well take up her enthusiastic would-be kidnapper on his offer. She reckoned that if she had that dedicated a captor, then she might as well humor him, abduction be damned.

Sure, she _could_ give her coachman the benefit of the doubt; maybe he was a genuinely inexperienced-to-the-point-of-criminal-negligence manservant who was willing to risk his livelihood in order to accommodate the whims of a spoiled little girl and fulfill a misplaced desire to help reunite father and daughter together during such an inauspicious time, but she wasn't nearly that naive or optimistic.

The convolution of their eventual escape... which involved a carriage ride from the Tsugaru docks to the nearest train station, an overnight train ride from Aomori to Fukushima, a short rendezvous at Kanto's Gunma in order to retrieve a horse-and-buggy they used to travel right up to Ueno before discarding that vehicle in favor of an expensive-looking stagecoach they used to drive across the border... clinched it for her. The garden-path setup of their travel details seemed a bit _too_ familiar to her for her tastes.

In the end, she decided to play along with her subjugator's game, enjoying the benefits of food and travel up until the point where he chose to reveal himself to her. She cooperated all throughout that time, which suited the both of them just fine. Being accustomed to long stretches of awkward silence allowed her to see just how good her latest hostage taker was at his work.

To his credit, the coachman was at least hospitable. Perhaps she was being too hard on him, since he was doing quite well for a person who was obviously rushing to meet some sort of deadline. She afterwards wondered when they would have lunch. She usually ate like a bird, but taking a break during an almost uninterrupted journey would've been a nice change of pace.

"You're a dutiful daughter, aren't you? It's such a shame that you ended up with an inhuman monster for a father, Rin-ojousama," the driver drawled in a rather straightforward manner, which mildly disappointed Rin... not because of his words, but because she was looking forward to at least a few more hours of respite.

Rin's "frowning" mouth moved barely an inch southward; otherwise, her expression remained the same. She'd hoped that their charade would've lasted a while longer... at least until dinner... but alas, her captor eventually decided to act upon his well-prepared yet painfully obvious plans. And for her, nothing telegraphed a kidnapper's intent better than telling her outright how much he hated her father. It was almost a tradition for them to do so.

"I suppose this is the part where you reveal that you're kidnapping me as revenge against my father," Rin mentioned with nary a flinch or a blink, peering at the man who served as her escort for nearly a week straight with shaky irises. "If not, then my apologies for my presumptuousness. Is there any particular reason why you're airing your grievances right now of all times?"

The carriage driver moved his head back, held his hand over half of his face, and barked three measured laughs before taking proper hold of the horses' reigns. "You already knew? For how long have you known?"

Rin narrowed her eyes in an attempt to get a better view of her driver and hostage taker. Depending on the distance between her and what she stared at, she'd either see a perfectly clear picture or perceive just parts of it while the rest remained completely blurry.

"I'm not totally blind. You were all too keen to offer me a ride to Shinshushin when I asked for one. You probably would've taken me by force if I hadn't volunteered, so I offered you the path of least resistance. You were hired as one of my newest bodyguards just a few weeks ago. My father has been known to lose all sense of logic when it comes to protecting me, so kidnappers pretending to be my bodyguards has somewhat become the standard modus operandi against us for quite sometime."

The both of them remained exactly the way they were, with the coachman maintaining his control over the galloping horses and Rin sitting perfectly still on her seat, her relaxed voice in perfect contrast to her controlled breathing and motionless body.

As an afterthought, Rin consoled, "Don't misunderstand. You were among the better kidnappers I've ever seen. It's just that I've seen better; it's not your fault. Of course, I've seen much worse, so you've done quite well."

The faux-manservant chortled at his prisoner's conceit even as she attempted to either comfort him or rub salt in his painfully transparent scheme. "So why did you play along to my sham for such a long time if you already knew the truth?"

"I have lots of reasons. I don't want to be hogtied at the back of a carriage for one thing, and I don't want to be carried along like luggage for another. I can't vouch for your trustworthiness, but my gamble paid off, and I wasn't hurt in the least so far," Rin remarked evenly while staring at the floor, unused to making eye contact for an extended period of time. "Also, this is the fastest and easiest way to get to my father. Thank you for your help, by the way."

"Ha. That sounds halfway logical. Still, do you really love the devil that you call your father _that_ much?" The gangly coachman sneered. "You're braver than you look. Any number of horrifying things could've happened to you in this journey. Are you really so innocent, arrogant, or stupid to think that you can manipulate your kidnapper to do whatever you want?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but there's nothing you can possibly do to me that would scare me in the very least." For a girl who wasn't used to making eye contact, her stare pierced right through the driver's insides.

"You almost sound like you're threatening me."

"I'm just stating a fact."

The man clucked his tongue over his mouth in a manner reminiscent of a house gecko, his shoulders squared and his line of sight still trained on the road. "Fair enough. You saved me the trouble of having you bound and gagged. You have my thanks as well. Lord knows that you stand out like a sore thumb regardless... No offense. But don't worry, Ojousama; I'll take you to your father. God willing, you'll help me make sure that justice is served without anyone else getting hurt."

"That's a strange sentiment coming from a criminal. Who exactly are you?" Bees and hummingbirds had more variation in the buzz of their fluttering wings than Rin had with her voice.

"Oh, that's right. You've impressed me so much by your powers of deduction that I thought you've already figured out who I am," the carriage driver supposed with a chin rub and an irremovable smirk. He turned towards Rin, took off his cap and ponytail, and let loose three-feet worth of luxurious burgundy hair; his war banner that flowed and danced with the wind.

"You don't need to know my name, but for all intents and purposes, I am the Hitokiri Battousai," he introduced as he took hold of the young maiden's limp wrists, his calloused hand sporting a strange hole in the middle of its palm.

"The Battousai Group," she limply ascertained. She would've looked surprised if she could, but only for the benefit of her kidnapper. Then, without so much as a warning or a moment's hesitation, she snatched the "hitokiri's" collar, tugged and popped the buttons off of his vest, kicked the door of her coach, grabbed hold of her shawl and her colored bifocals, and jumped out of the moving vehicle.

"R-Rin-ojousama...!" the androgynous Battousai doppelganger sputtered by instinct before halting the horses' momentum with a tug of the reigns and a mighty shout of "WHOA!"

The abrupt stop caused the undercarriage to splinter and break from the strain, the wear-and-tear of traveling with only intermittent breaks from Kanto to Chubu taking its toll on the wheels, axles, and chassis. Providentially, the skidpan and the lancewood shafts was able to keep the rickety stagecoach together long enough for the Battousai impersonator to leap away from harm.

He landed seconds before the matchbox carriage crashed into a birch tree and broke into a thousand pieces of screaming wood and sawdust, the liberated thoroughbreds stampeding straight into the neighboring wilderness without direction or purpose.

"Like father, like daughter," was the lesson that the fake Battousai learned just now. Tracing the horse-and-carriage tracks back to the place where the intrepid Rin made her daring escape, the blood-haired man with a large scar shaped like a crucifix over his exposed chest resolved to make use of his passable medical knowledge to search for his mortal enemy's greatest weakness.

For example, he inferred that he should head for the shadiest part of the forest, complacent with the knowledge that a half-blind young woman with a biological distaste for sunlight shouldn't be very hard to find, especially in this sweltering mid-afternoon heat.

* * *

In the inner sanctum of Akahori's guestroom... a place that doubled as the curtain-bearded man's study, which was why it was filled to the brim with the typical trimmings of books, shelves, cabinets, a grandfather clock, chairs, luxurious carpeting, tables, candelabras, candle sconces, a fireplace, expensive portraits, windowed doors leading straight to the terrace, and more... the Oyakata's fellow politicians had already settled down and took their respective seats, engaging in calmer chitchat that slowly but surely progressed from trivial to grave.

"How does it feel to be a big fish in a small pond?" Kaoru Inoue, an arrow-mustachioed diplomat about two years older than Akahori, asked congenially as he stirred his drink by waving his wine glass around an imaginary circle.

Akahori snorted and rolled his eyes. "All the other so-called big fish I know have stayed clear of this place because of tonight's looming threat. I had to abandon all pretenses of having a meeting halfway through my preparations against the announced assassination, seeing that I only have you two attending so far."

The brush-mustached and slightly balding Count Kiyotaka Kuroda cleared his throat, pouring himself and Akahori two glasses of what he identified to be rare European-style wine made mostly unavailable to the East because of the phylloxera plague that ravaged Western vineyards at the time. The shortage forced Japan to create their own small-scale, non-rice-based alcohol production line through imported vine stock. In any case, the wine connoisseur figured he might as well show his appreciation of the expensive alcoholic beverage by savoring it to the last drop.

Akahori turned his attention to his former fellow compatriot from Hokkaido while Inoue quietly sipped his drink. "Is it foolishness or bravery that brought you here, Kuroda-kun?"

Kuroda chuckled for a couple of seconds before halting altogether. "I should ask you the same question. It's amazing how you were able to organize everything despite being the target of ultra-religious rebels, Akahori-san. Most other people in your shoes would have taken a foreign diplomat post overseas. You're either amazingly brave or astoundingly foolish... maybe both."

"Please, call me Akahori-kun. You're only two years younger than me," Akahori insisted by patting and clutching Kuroda's shoulder before letting go, opening up a bottle of sake this time around, and refilling Inoue's empty glass.

The rigidity of Kuroda's back gradually softened as he slouched on his cushioned chair. "As for you, you don't look a day over forty. What's your secret? I do hope that when I get to your age, I'll become that spry a forty-seven-year-old man! I don't know you do it."

Kuroda swayed forward before catching himself. "Nevertheless, the fact that you were able to influence so many officers to join your cause even in these dire times of civil disobedience and peasant rebellions is quite the remarkable feat," the count took note as he downed his glass of red wine in one shot.

Akahori's spectacles glinted, the light from the nearby windowed doors obscuring his eyes and overall facial expression. "Is it now? Yes, it is fascinating. But it's not as fascinating as seeing the former head of the Satsuma domain come all the way here to have drinks with the man whom he hates the most."

Kuroda paused for a minute. "Nonsense! I don't hate Inoue-san at all!"

The Oyakata sniggered, and Kuroda laughed along with him, the latter's eyes wide and darting all over the place.

In stark contrast to Inoue's earlier confrontation with Kuroda, the elder statesman served as Akahori's mediator of sorts this time around. "Now, now, Akahori. Kuroda-kun is merely doing what is expected of him. He's as loyal and dependable as our late comrade, Kawaji-kun, was."

"May he rest in peace," Kuroda murmured by reflex before beaming with gratitude towards the conciliatory Inoue. "Thank you for such high praise; I feel honored to be compared to such a great man!"

Even with his shiny, obscuring glasses, Akahori's sharp sneer was unmistakable. From there, the Oyakata barked with laughter, which compelled Kuroda to scrunch his face with furrowed eyebrows and a wrinkled forehead.

"Yes, Kawaji-kun will be sorely missed. Because he'd served as Okubo-dono's shadow for all these years, then perhaps some of Okubo-dono's greatness must've rubbed off on him! Why, the fact that he became such a 'major' player during Shishio Makoto's coup d'etat practically gives him the license to have a statue made after him, even! It's a pity then that no politician dares to even mention Shishio's name to the general public nowadays."

"Are you trying to say something, Akahori-san?" Kuroda queried, gripping the arms of his chair and making his clenched fists' knuckles turn white, his nails digging hard into the wooden finish.

"Nothing of the sort. Nonetheless, I am concerned about how Ito-dono and Yamagata-dono are treating you, Kuroda-kun. Have they sent you to this meeting to find out just why I was able to get the cooperation of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police? Or are you doing this to curry favor with them in order to regain the credibility you've lost after the Hokkaido Colonization Office Scandal?" the Oyakata supposed as he rubbed his bearded chin with a gloved thumb.

Kuroda stood up from his seat, his nostrils flaring and his body as motionless as an untouched landmine. He felt his face numb up, the room spinning slightly at the edge of his vision. However, he made no attempt to give Akahori a piece of his mind, demand an apology, or even hiss, "I don't like your tone of voice, Akahori-san."

"You shouldn't worry about your shortcomings _too much_, Kuroda-kun. I've once heard that the person who is usually punished is never the one who did the deed. He is always the scapegoat. Lucky for you, you have enough friends in high places to keep you in office for a long, long time. Who knows? Perhaps you'll even get to run this country someday. You never know," Akahori spewed his backhanded words of encouragement with the glibness of a salesman.

Kuroda let out a low growl, but did nothing else. This was neither the time nor the place for such shenanigans, the fallen statesman reckoned. Conversely, had his slackened tongue not rolled into his throat just then, he would've lambasted Akahori then and there. Besides, there was no need to confront a man who was, for all intents and purposes, already dead.

The Meiji Oligarchy had abandoned Akahori to be fed to the wolves, knowing full well that no matter what scheme or contingency plan the infamous Oyakata of Hokkaido came up with, there was no escaping the wrath of the religious rebel whose sword style even resembled the one used by Hitokiri Battousai... or so Kuroda deemed, anyway.

Toshimichi Okubo's immediate successor for the Satsuma leadership inwardly considered the events as karmic revenge against the man who'd helped ruin his political career altogether; the sniveling whistleblower who conspired with the leader of the Rikken Kaishinto conservatives in order to embarrass and dishonor the Ito Administration by revealing a fraudulent scheme it had to sell government assets to Hokkaido.

Kuroda knew that he was in the wrong and that he deserved his fall from grace, but he also knew for a fact that Akahori himself was part of the whole operation before he snitched about it and got away from the scandal scot-free. By the count's estimations, seeing the smug snake finally get his due was worth the lengthy trip down to the remote Nagano Prefecture.

After composing himself for a minute or so, Kuroda stiffly clarified, "The Prime Minister and the Defense Minister has nothing to do with my being here, Akahori-san," as he clutched his throat and smiled for exactly two seconds.

Before the self-righteous Akahori could interject yet another implied insult at Kuroda and incur the ex-Satsuma leader's rumored drunken wrath, Inoue remarked, "My, my, Akahori-dono! You make it sound like Kawaji-kun was some sort of Okubo sycophant, my friend! That couldn't be further from the truth. Kawaji-kun has done quite a lot in keeping the government stable and intact after Okubo's assassination. Our present Prime Minister would've had his hands full had our comrade not followed through the late Okubo-dono's mission to borrow Himura-kun's strength to repel the Shishio uprising."

"Is that so? It wasn't my intention to portray Kawaji-kun as anything other than the hero he truly is or was, Inoue," Akahori indirectly apologized while giving the livid Kuroda a token glance. "I wouldn't dare risk raising the ire of any Ishin Shishi supporters. Perish the thought."

"Please, Akahori. There are no more bakufu or Ishin Shishi in this day and age. Only politicians," Inoue corrected as he put his half-empty wine glass down on the nearby table.

"Oh, that's right. There have been quite a lot of people who'd rather refer to the former Ishin Shishi as members of the Choshu and Satsuma clans even though both Okubo-dono and Katsura-dono have long ago passed away. Saigo-dono himself turned out to be a traitor to our new government. As such, in some politicians' minds, there's a big difference between the 'true' Ishin Shishi and what's left of them in the Ito Administration." Akahori stroked his chin-beard as he paced around the room.

Despite Inoue's best attempts at compromise and because of Akahori's roundabout insults of Hirobumi Ito's governance, Kuroda felt obliged to slump back to his seat, cross his arms, and comment, "It's also regrettable that Akahori-san is among those in the oligarchy who approved of handing out pardons to the surviving members of Shishio's troop. I mean, it's really lucky for him that all the brave policemen he has gathered here today aren't privy to that information. Who knows how they'd react to such a controversial issue once it's brought up?"

Akahori could only tilt his head as he looked over the irate count's shoulder. Noticing the older man's stare, Kuroda instinctively turned around, only to have his sweat turn cold upon noticing the beaming, indecipherably blissful face of Soujiro Seta... Okubo's true murderer. At the back of his mind, he could almost hear Akahori mention, "Give anyone enough rope, and he'll calmly hang himself," as he gulped and retreated into his suit's stiff collar.

"There are men who become great because they surround themselves with other great men, lifting themselves together in new heights of excellence. Then again, there are those who beat their own path by using the circumstances they've been dealt with to define their own greatness," Akahori glibly declared, sitting down on the chair at the back of his desk, his back hunched forward, and his hands forming a steeple in front of his face.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **Shogi piece arrangement.

_To tell you the truth, the Togakudan is a shout out to a rather infamous filler episode in the Rurouni Kenshin anime. The one involving Sanosuke and a dog. However, unlike their Kenwadan counterparts, the Togakudan aren't wearing "Kunimitsu" cat masks of "Tekken" fame. _

_Moreover, the "That's a hell of a big word!" quote originated from a "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" joke. Man, I love that show. Ryan and Colin are natural-born comedians. Finally, the quote about Yahiko realizing the source of Kenshin's strength comes straight from the Rurouni Kenshin manga, during the Jinchu Arc._

**Wala na akong masabi,_  
_**Abdiel


	14. Chapter 14

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_Akahori will do everything he can to take into account every last contingency and eventuality, but will he be able to do so against a powerful cult leader from his shrouded past? _

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 14: Madness at the Mansion**

* * *

"If that's the case, then I must be the former type. It's not that I'm claiming myself to be great or anything, but I'm no vanguard like you, Akahori-kun," Inoue remarked as he grabbed hold of the confounded Kuroda's shoulders to both restrain and reassure him. "I believe that greatness can be achieved with the combined and concerted efforts of my peers as well as myself. The power of the multitude isn't necessarily an affront against people who are individually great."

"An admirable stance, but I find it rather naive," Akahori observed bluntly. "Your position is unbecomingly infantile for someone who's experienced the death of the old Japan and the birth of the new one. You should know better, Inoue-kun; idealism and reality does not mesh."

"Fair enough," Inoue assented, but afterwards dared, "What about you, Akahori? How naive are you as well, thinking that the path you've chosen will lead you to success? You've made a lot of enemies because of your schemes as well as your recklessness. Just how great can you become if the whole world is against you?"

Akahori unclenched his hands, stood up, and stretched his gangly arms across his table. "In my not-so-humble opinion, facing against the whole world is the very definition of greatness." At that point, the Oyakata declared, "I thank you two for your time and presence. Alas, I believe that this mockery of a meeting has come to a close. My bodyguard will escort you both to your carriages."

"Good-bye, Akahori. Take good care of yourself, old friend," Inoue bid his farewell as he bowed, while Kuroda could only manage a curt nod while slightly bending over. They exited the room with Soujiro a few minutes later.

Akahori strode to the balcony of the estate, breathing in the fresh alpine air. "Just how unpredictable will everything get? Will you be able to surprise me yet again?" he whispered to the chortling mountain breeze.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, after the trio realized that they were too far away to buy meat buns for the Togakudan (which Yahiko suspected as a wild goose chase that the spy troop used to get rid of Minoe, especially after the pirate-garbed non-pirate confessed that he needed to cross the outer fringes of Nagano to find that type of food), they returned to the mansion and spent their time discussing the Battousai Group's impending assassination of Akahori.

Somehow, the discussion shifted from the details behind the announced hit to just how powerful this Battousai Group was. Yahiko himself was fairly sure that any warrior from the Ten Swords or Enishi's Six Comrades would've "kicked the asses of those posers from here to Saturday, and twice on Sunday". He would've said so himself had Gan not used the exact same wording to describe how the Shinsengumi would've humiliated the religious terrorist upstarts instead.

Grumbling at his own defensiveness, the childish part of Yahiko's mind that screeched, "Kenshin can win against anybody if he's properly motivated, even Hiko Seijuro XIII!" made him inquire, "By the way, did Amakusa _really_ kill a thousand men within a month or two at his own hometown? I've heard an acquaintance of mine tell me tales of certain swordsmen killing fifty soldiers in two hours, but a whole army in little over a month or two sounds kind of dubious. And retarded."

Minoe slowly looked up into the late afternoon skies, his uncovered eye darting left and right in seeming meditation before the swirling cumulus unveiled the brilliance of the setting sun, which made him wince and cover his face with a cupped hand. "That's a gross oversimplification, Yahiko-chi. No one man could kill a thousand soldiers by himself. Especially during 1878, when the use of guns became more rampant than the use of the katana."

The boy with spiky hair let out a relieved-sounding chortle. "Ah, of course. Silly me. In real life, guns are better than swords." Not that Yahiko would know any better, what with him and the rest of Kenshin's company constantly battling fighters of varying competence who insist on dueling the old-fashioned, bakumatsu-approved way.

From there, Minoe's svelte form froze and bent over, his body shaking for some reason.

"Patches?" Gan ventured as he reached out his hand towards the trembling man-child, his eyebrows furrowed and his nose wrinkled. "What's the matter?"

"AMAKUSA SHOGO-SAMA HAS BEEN MADE INTO A SCAPEGOAT BY THOSE MEIJI GOVERNMENT SCUM! That's why they blamed him for the deaths of over a thousand soldiers and policemen. They might as well say he killed all two thousand with the way they made him solely responsible for the fiasco that happened in Shimabara!"

A dog howled in the distance.

Yahiko... the closest one to Minoe and his batty screech that could've summoned "Kitsune-chi" and friends, the dead, and the devil... winced back a tear, uttered, "Holy fucking shit," in a strained voice, keeled over, and writhed on the ground. 'So this was what happened to Enishi after Kenshin helped tear apart his eardrum with a supersonic sword-sheathing technique!'

Gan turned his head to the side and slapped one of his ears repeatedly as though there were water stuck in his other ear, shook his noggin as if to clear it, and wondered when the whistling sound he kept on hearing would stop. "So this Amakusa Kumamoto person was framed by our esteemed Meiji Government, I'm assuming? I can't say I'm surprised."

"That's exactly right! Shogo-sama...!" Minoe squeaked because his earlier shrillness had taken a toll on his vocal cords.

"...Sama?" the recovering Yahiko repeated, picking his throbbing ear with his pinky finger to make sure he was hearing Minoe right.

"...Chi. Amakusa-chi," Minoe corrected himself, clearing his strained throat and mumbling something about being overcome by his emotions. "_He_, like many other people screwed over by the Choshu and Satsuma Clans after they took over the nation's seat of power, was merely protecting the interests of his fellow Christian brethren. He wasn't some army-killing terrorist who'd slice you up at the drop of a hat a la the Hitokiri Battousai or the Shidai Nikuya of the Bakumatsu. If he hadn't survived the sudden government attack on Shimabara back in 1878, he would've died a Christian martyr."

"By the way, are you disappointed about the fact that your hero is nothing more than a fraud and an urban legend, Patches?" Gan interjected with the bluntness of the steel bat that he usually carried because he felt the need to set the record straight.

"Er, I'm not saying that Amakusa-chi isn't a terrorist _right now_ or anything like that. I'm just... disillusioned with the government. In fact, I myself would've joined the Freedom and People's Rights Movement if I weren't part of the Togakudan," came Minoe's wishy-washy take on the subject.

"Yeah, yeah. So would I. The government sucks, and that's not exactly groundbreaking news. Politics in general just frizzes my hair because it's nothing more than a pissing contest on who could delay decisions the longest," Yahiko addressed with a flat tone, his posture drooped as he paced around while observing the dried leaves and twigs crunch and crackle underneath his sandals like kindling inside a furnace.

An uninvited vision of his overworked and frazzled widow of a mother getting manhandled by a leering Gasuke entered Yahiko's mind before he altogether pushed the spine-tingling memory into the darkest depths of his subconscious.

Gulping down the feeling of wetness in his oral and nasal passages, Yahiko emphasized, "I'm not a big fan of the Meiji Government. In fact, based on the many experiences that my friends and I had, I'd probably side with the Battousai Group or the Jiyu Minken Undo if given the chance. However, I have no sympathy for terrorists or extremists. Amakusa's actions are doing his people more harm than good."

Gan put his plate-wide hands on Minoe's shoulder and gently patted it. "Sorry, Patches, but I'm siding with Yoshi-boy on this one. I mean, with all due respect to this Kumamoto guy, he's brought the government's wrath upon himself and his followers. Killing off officials working for an administration that essentially helped lift the ban against his religion by ousting the anti-Christian shogunate in the first place is a stupid idea!"

The bandanna-wearing mountain of muscle and fat trudged across the otherwise deserted lawn in wide arcs, kicking off dust, dirt, rock, and foliage as he went about his tirade. "I'm guessing the people he killed must have been former bakufu officials. Nevertheless, terrorism is not the way to advertise his religion to the new government as something worth embracing or tolerating. He probably set back Christianity in Japan to Tokugawa-Era persecution for what he has done."

Yahiko's eyebrows shot up as he blinked and stared at the raving Gan with a gaping mouth. 'Wow. That actually made sense. I was expecting something else, specifically bullshit.'

Gan did a low whistle as he continued his diatribe. "You know what, Patches? For an obvious admirer of Amakusa Shogo, it's weird how you're practically working for the Meiji Government. You're as much of a walking contradiction as Yoshi-boy over here. You're both forced to do stuff you don't want by people you don't like because you value 'saving face' and 'virtues' too much. You're all being hypocritical, though."

Yahiko gave Gan a dirty look as he regained his vertical base and trailed behind his two acquaintances. "And you're full of yourself, Gan. What gave you that idea?"

Gan shrugged as he counted on one hand his reasons. "For one thing, you support to the point of infatuation that Ishin Shishi hitokiri. That doesn't necessarily mean you're Pro-Choshu or Pro-Satsuma, but an argument over your bias could be made. For another thing, you're applying as a bodyguard for one of the politicians supporting the government you hate. Granted, he's not from either of the dominant parties I just mentioned, but he's not exactly rebelling against them either. One more thing, you're quite Anti-Shinsengumi, which to me translates that you're very Pro-Royalist. The only thing about you that doesn't scream 'Ishin Shishi nuthugger' is that you say you aren't. Isn't that the epitome of being hypocritical, or at least contradictory?"

Yahiko choked back two chuckles that sounded more like emphysema as his blood traveled straight to his swelling, reddening head. "Oh, you got me all figured out, Gan. You're as insightful as always. The visual of me hugging ball sacks is quite classy as well."

Minoe yanked his head away from his Sanbaka cohorts, his mouth shrunken into a thin, quivering line as he wrapped his bandaged arms around himself. "It's not that I'm condoning Amakusa-chi's assassinations or whatnot, but you both need to realize that we're being governed by an oligarchy that's more concerned with gathering more power, prestige, and money for its members than fighting for the rights of its citizens."

The Rambunctious Gan cocked his pointer finger back in order to deliver his cunning riposte when his posture just as quickly deflated like a popped balloon. "Er, what's an oligarchy?"

Yahiko didn't _really_ like the taste of decomposing plants, but his body couldn't help itself as it fell face-first in utter aggravation. Even the obstinate Minoe appeared rather disheveled by the Inconsistent Gan's sudden bout of ignorance. "It means we're presently being ruled by rich, elite politicians, Gan-chi."

"Oh. Right." Gan put his thumbs over his obi, tapped his exposed fingers on his wide thighs, and whistled a short tune. "So, you were saying? Or is it my turn to talk now?"

Thanks to Gan's smooth segue, the Sanbaka forgot what they were arguing about. Subsequently, they let out a collective sigh as they sat down on the grassy, prickly lawn and stared at the golden-brown sky. The fiery heavens matched the dying exquisiteness of the autumnal earth. The warmth of the afternoon sun burned with a passion that left the three comrades wistful and pensive.

The season of death and decay wasn't supposed to appear this glorious. Idealism wasn't supposed to look so naive and foolish. Pragmatism wasn't supposed to look harsh and ugly. A lot of things tended to contradict what they were supposed to be, the Three Stooges reckoned.

"Did you already talk to somebody else about the Battousai Group, Yahiko-chi?" Minoe inquired in a hushed tone, his gut feeling already providing him his answer before the sixteen-year-old samurai successor confirmed his suspicions.

Not a single one of Yahiko's facial muscles moved except for those attached to his mouth and cheeks. "Yeah, I did. The Oyakata we met late last midnight in the Shinshu Cockpits was Akahori Tetsuo himself... the man that the Battousai Group wants to kill. I even had Mister Sakaguchi confirm everything that the slimy politician told me, and it all checked out. But if what you say is true, then they must've had some 'creative' interpretations of the event."

"Okay." Minoe bit his lip and pouted in a way that neither Yahiko nor any other man could ever duplicate. "Even though I can see why Oyakata-dono-chi would lie about the Shimabara incident, I'm surprised that Sakaguchi-chi believed the same thing. Or rather, maybe he has a good reason to do so? I can't tell. I've only met him just yesterday."

"I'm surprised you called Officer Daddy, 'Sakaguchi-chi'. You may be an effeminate weirdo, but at least you're dedicated to your quirks." Gan shifted and stirred around the pile of leaves underneath him, unmindful of the dirt, muck, and bacteria that his nineteenth century mind couldn't possibly fathom but should've for the sake of his own health.

"I've never been involved in any actual war, Minoe, but to tell you the truth, it'd be a mistake for you to think that a conflict has good guys and bad guys; that you're right and everyone else against you is wrong, misguided, or lying. That's oversimplifying things. Both sides will always think themselves to be the right side, but only history and our descendants can judge years from now who truly is right.'"

Minoe turned his head towards Yahiko as he let the boy's words sink in, his face shadowed against the sunset, his silhouette highlighted by a thin line of light that reached all the way to the wisps of disheveled fake hair on his wig.

Yahiko scratched his cheek, smacked his dry mouth to moisturize it, and coughed. "Or something like that; all I'm saying is that might doesn't necessarily make right. It only proves that the guy who prevailed wanted the win a bit more than his opponent did. That's all. But that shouldn't stop anyone from fighting for what he or she thinks is right either."

"I don't quite understand what you're trying to say, Yahiko-chi," admitted Minoe with a shrug of his not-so-broad shoulders. "Can you please elaborate?"

Yahiko cleared his throat. "Look. For all intents and purposes, the government appears like the bad guys to you, but to them, they'll never think of themselves that way. Even if they're your own personal villains, they'll always think of themselves as the heroes. Also, let's face it, maybe _we're_ somebody else's villains. So you shouldn't paint things as black and white, because life doesn't work that way."

"Wow. Did you come up with that all by yourself, Yoshi-boy?" the Garrulous Gan mocked with shiny octopus lips and beady eyes. Minoe's and Yahiko's respective neck hairs shot straight up as they both turned blue at the insulting sight before them.

"N-No, a good friend of mine told me that a long time ago."

"That figures. You couldn't have thought up that philosophical mumbo-jumbo by yourself, what with your simpleminded, gung-ho 'I want to be stronger and beat up all the bad guys!' shtick."

In three blinks... or perhaps winks... of Minoe's exposed eye, Yahiko sprayed Gan's face with crushed and crumpled foliage, Gan put Yahiko in a headlock before rubbing the boy's skull raw with vibrating knuckles, and Yahiko _at long last_ gave Gan a taste of his 1878-vintage "Wrath at the End of the Era" crotch kick.

"My so-called shtick is certainly better than your unoriginal 'I'm a gluttonous drunkard who stalks women and gambles a lot!' one, so you should talk," Yahiko rebutted in triumph as he shoved a thumbs-down sign at the moaning, groaning, and butt-wiggling Gan.

"So what's my shtick, guys?" Minoe queried, sitting up and pointing to himself with expectant glee.

"Er, the 'Better left unsaid' shtick?" was what Gan wanted to quip, but he ultimately decided against it because his quota of "one Minoe pout per day" had already been filled. Besides, he reckoned that his presently falsetto voice would just ruin the intended effect of his wisecrack.

"Okay, have we learned anything from this discussion?" came Yahiko's rhetorical question.

However, since it was doubtful that any of the three had studied that particular figure of speech, Minoe submitted in due course, "Yeah! Yahiko-chi is a fanatic of Hitokiri Battousai, Gan-chi is a fanatic of the Shinsengumi, and I'm a fanatic of Amakusa Shogo! We're all fanboys!"

Yahiko's facial expression and body language demonstrated exhaustion beyond peer and an unwillingness to mime any sort of coherent response to Minoe's typical nonsense. "Then we really haven't learned anything at all."

"How about we call our merry men, 'The Fanboys', then? Or is that name already taken or something?" Gan piped up, his one-track mind stuck in a garden path long abandoned by his two cohorts.

"A rock and a hard place, Gan," Yahiko intimated, referring to how Gan had managed to come up with a group name that was worse than "The Three Stooges".

"'A Rock and a Hard Place', eh? So where does Minoe fit in that group name?"

"...I give up."

"I told you that 'Sanbaka' is the perfect name for us!" Minoe interposed.

"The tragic part of that sentence is its accuracy," the browbeaten Yahiko noted as he put on his frayed kabuto that served as his white flag of defeat.

* * *

The forest of yellow green, brown, and white engulfed Rin, blurs of Nagano's mountain peaks just ahead of her at an unfathomable distance. How far were they? Where was she? What exactly prompted her to jump out of a moving vehicle? Carelessness or lack of concern?

She couldn't have stood out more if she set herself on fire. Within the confined space of a wagon, her mere words and gestures made a difference. Here, painting-like visions of autumnal grace surrounded her yet held an empty flatness she couldn't properly perceive, consuming her in vibrant, untouchable hues devoid of any discernable profiles.

Nothing she reached for fell within her grasp. The objects that managed to touch her did so inadvertently, appearing in the middle of an ungraspable nothingness that lacked the feeling of form and shape.

Regardless of her uncertainty, she traipsed further into the woods, showering her feet with splashes of crisp foliage sprinkling behind her in fountains of apricot and tan, her shawl floating in watery air, her creamy skin and purple kimono enabling her to blend in with the white trunks and branches of the prefecture's native birch trees and blooming alpine plants.

If she only stood still, then she'd be camouflaged by the unending nature surrounding her. However, doing so would also mean that she'd have no choice but be left in the shadows... shadows that filled her with a subconscious dread she'd rather not delve into.

Night terrors of being torn apart from the inside out while hearing a disjointed cacophony of sweet nothings... a flash fire of love and hatred prickling into the side of her slim neck... blazed before Rin's silvery eyes, but her mind blanked out at the last second before she could make sense of it all.

She wanted no part of such dreams; however, if she actually moved towards the light, pain and suffering awaited her instead. A contemptuous voice reverberated inside the milk-haired girl's mind, singing parodied nursery rhymes and taunts that compelled her to gulp her heart down and restrain it from exiting her body altogether.

She opened her mouth, gasping for air, shuddering as something built up inside her throat... she fought against that feeling, _raged_ against it, grasping at plants that weren't there for support.

Stop. Relax. Wait.

Before she knew it, her body backpedaled into the shade of spindled birches.

Where was she?

She took out her glasses and put them on to cover the glare of the unforgiving sun.

She hated the sun. Or rather, she hated what it entailed. After all, she never showed any particular partiality towards the night, the moon, and the stars either. The shadows petrified her as well. In truth, if people could survive without the sun... and if she weren't so afraid of the dark... then she would be satisfied living in a world of darkness.

She hated the sun in a way she didn't quite understand... after all, she felt perfectly fine around the warm glow of a streetlamp or candle... which made her realize early on that she had an unreasoning aversion to something that was otherwise mundane to everybody else.

She hated how the sun made her feel, because she couldn't leave any of the different mansions that she, her father, and their army of servants occupied unless Akahori's business prompted them to move. That ball of fire in the sky brought tears in her eyes without depressing her in the least. It also caused her to draw her room's curtains and hide into the shadows she feared, where she could barely see a thing.

She hated how the sun compelled her to stay in a place where coldness became comfort up until the prickly heat behind her neck signaled the beginning of her nightmares. She was the moon, running away from the sun as it chased after her for an eternity. Of course, that wasn't really how the phenomenon of dawn and twilight worked, but that was how the sun seemed to her; a relentless stalker that would never give her a minute of tranquility during her waking hours, pushing her into a situation she never wanted to be in from the very start.

If the sunlight elicited her irrational hatred and the darkness triggered her illogical fear, then where was she supposed to go? This was her personal cross that she had to bear. However, someone else also shared her burden, but he wasn't even aware of the fact that he belonged to neither the darkness nor the light. She'd do her best to educate him about the shade of gray where light and darkness met one of these days.

She longed for the comforting warmth of a lamp or a candle, where she could enjoy both the light and the shadows for once. She longed for light that engulfed her but left her untouched and unscarred. She pined for shadows that kept her safe and free from any harm. Alas, reality forbade her to have the comforts that everyone else took for granted.

She told barely any of the people around her about that particular quirk of hers. She never came clean to them because these superstitious fools would probably equate her hatred of light and fear of darkness to wickedness, demon worship, and death harbingering than mere predisposition... not that she needed to anyway, what with the whispers of "vampire" behind her back. That was preposterous, of course; who'd ever heard of a ghoul that was scared of the shadows?

She also hated the fact that her physical limitations and idiosyncrasies left her completely at the mercy of one of the Battousai Group's mercenaries, or perhaps even the very leader of the cult himself who was known to do personal assassinations of government officials when called for.

On that note, the identity of the cavalier coachman that'd brought her to Nagano intrigued her somewhat. Thing was, she'd overheard from her father that every member of the Battousai Group was a Hitokiri Battousai in his own right, and only a few of their identities have been exposed to the Meiji Government.

With that in mind, even if she could see normally and walk out into the sun without any protection of some sort, she probably wouldn't be able to get really far anyway. Unless their decision of using the Battousai name was just for show, then she was virtually trapped like a blind white mouse in some sort of jungle labyrinth.

But she already knew that, and she didn't particularly care. If she did, then she wouldn't have bothered humoring her kidnapper from the get go. She wasn't quite sure which one of the Battousais he was, but she had a few plausible theories.

Soon afterwards, beneath the shade of the trees and the sunny plains that lay onwards, the nebulous silhouette of green and white before her took the shape of a gangly man who walked with a steady gait. His full, rich mane flowed behind him with the regalia of a royal cape.

"I won't hurt you," the alleged Hitokiri Battousai reassured as he moved into Rin's full view. He still wore his coachman gear, but this time he brandished a curious crystal ball on his right hand and a sheathed, black-colored sword on his belt strap. "Come quietly. It'll be over soon."

"I've heard that line before; too many times, actually," Rin confessed with a gentle toss of her hair and a squint of her metallic eyes. "Tell me, Mister Battousai; how far are you willing to go to kill my father?"

* * *

Outside the entrance of Jusanro Tani's former mansion outside Shinshu, Minoe mumbled something to Yahiko's ear from out of the blue.

Yahiko jumped about two feet away from the uncomfortably close Minoe. "Er, I didn't quite catch what you said," the boy gulped as he scratched the side of his nose.

"Have you ever wished to be someone else, Yahiko-chi?" Minoe asked, his eyes hidden by his fake bangs. However, the earnestness of his voice remained loud and clear.

Yahiko put his hands on his waist and did a once-over on Minoe. "Why would you even ask a question like that?"

"No particular reason," came Minoe's unfazed reply.

It took Yahiko all of two seconds to come up with, "No. Call me egotistical or whatever, but I've never really wanted to be anything else other than myself.

"I see." Minoe nodded several times before turning his back on his two listless comrades and looking at the chilly and slightly cloudy moonlit sky.

Yahiko rethought his answer. "I've always wanted to be stronger than I was before; that is, better than how I was when I was ten years old. I used to be so weak and helpless that my old hag of a master had to comfort me by saying that I'm the 'Strongest Ten Year Old in Japan'. It was pretty depressing."

Both Minoe and the eavesdropping Gan guffawed at Yahiko's "joke", but their mirth promptly died as soon as they saw the spiky-haired boy's half-lidded poker face. "See what I mean?"

"So did you ever become stronger than your past self? What would your past self have told your present self now?" Minoe prodded while Gan inflated his cheeks in withdrawn laughter.

"AHAHAHAHA! Strongest ten year old in Japan! That's like saying you're the tallest midget or the fastest turtle; the lowered standards make you the winner by default!" came Gan's outburst.

"Are you done now?" Yahiko inquired with a growl and pulsating veins on his head.

Gan scratched his buttocks and readjusted his pants. "Not really. I'll be over the tree laughing my ass off if you need me."

"All right. Where were we? Oh yeah." Yahiko scratched his chin and smacked his lips noisily. "To tell you the truth, Minoe, I don't think I'm there yet in terms of strength. I'm not sure I'll ever be, but I'll try my best to get to his level."

Minoe tilted his head to the side. "'His' level?"

"Kamiya Kenshin's level... or Himura Kenshin. Or Battousai. The vagabond. Whatever he calls himself now." The image of Kenshin's retreating back filled Yahiko's mind once more: a vision that he'd burned into his retinas forever. "The strength of the Kenshin I looked up to is not just the strength of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. It's the strength to keep on living bearing heartfelt pain and agony that's worse than death. Now, in the true meaning of the word, I want to be strong."

Minoe sighed and closed his one exposed eye. "I know what you mean. Amakusa-chi is a charismatic rebel that I can't help but look up to as well, even though I could never achieve his level of strength either."

"Since we're playing twenty questions here, what about you? Why are you part of the Togakudan anyway, Minoe?" Yahiko needled, figuring that tonight was as good a night as any to know more about the strange and mysterious eye-patched weirdo that had been following them for nearly two days now.

Minoe's eye darted to the side as his mouth formed a tight-lipped, withdrawn expression. "I'm not sure what either of your circumstances are, but the revolution has been tough on me. Farmers and peasants had always had it tough even before the Bakumatsu no Douran, but the situation became downright degrading once the government increased taxes and gave the poor debts that they couldn't possibly pay. You've all heard the same story before, I suppose. I've allowed myself to be the runt of the Togakudan pack because with them, I could at least earn enough to eat."

Yahiko cleared his throat as he waved his head to and fro for a possible exit from the awkward state of affairs; alas, he found none. "I-I'm sorry to hear that. I really am." He also regretted prying into Minoe's personal business, but had enough prudence to keep that statement to himself as he cursed Gan's big mouth inwardly.

Regrettably, discretion was a foreign concept to the Tactless Gan as he returned to the fray and added his two yen's worth in the conversation. "I hear you, buddy. We poor people need to stick together. These city folk have no idea how hard life can be, what with their fancy carriages, deep wells, and dense population."

"Hey, stop talking out of your ass! I've been through some rough times too, you know! Do I look like a rich kid to you guys? Come on," Yahiko blurted out while at the same time wishing he could kick himself for even bothering to engage in this discussion. "My dad died when I was little, and my mom was forced into debt by the yakuza before she herself died. I... I'm doing a lot better now than before, but I'm no spoiled brat who doesn't know what's it like to starve for days or weeks on end."

"Wow. Awkward," Gan declared as he huddled and squirmed. "Uh, well, I learned the Drunken Fist quite quickly because of all the severe and traumatizing beatings my drunkard father gave me as a child."

"...Really?" Yahiko murmured after a crow cawed, a cicada sang a solo concert, and a tumbleweed tumbled across the road. Both he and Minoe had gaped-mouth expressions of horror worthy of famine victims.

"No, not really; it's just that your stories totally make my story about my longtime crush who blew me off in Kyoto sound really lame." Gan helplessly shrugged before he was just-as-helplessly whacked upside the head with a blunt, cloth-wrapped sword. A brawl ensued.

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT SHIT! WE WERE HAVING A SERIOUS CONVERSATION HERE!"

In a little while, Minoe tittered so much that his wig and eye patch almost fell off, which served as Yahiko and Gan's cue to knock off their roughhousing of each other. "Maybe I should have joined the Sanbaka instead of the Togakudan; even though you two probably don't pay half as well, the membership will be worth it for the laughs."

Tempted as Gan and Yahiko were to "initiate" Minoe into their "team" after that inadvertent "Three Stooges" crack, they let their so-called comrade's running gag slide for the time being, happy that the nimbus of gloom from their past memories had come to pass.

"Going back to what we were talking about, you do know the reason behind the revolt in Chichibu, right?" Yahiko asked Minoe with a straight face, his smile still present but his intonation a lot lower and flatter than before.

"From what I can gather from the newspapers, it's about the tax increases and land reform. A lot of the farmers... me and my family included... had their lands confiscated because they couldn't keep up with the higher taxes and the changing times. I understand the good intentions of the government, but many people were bankrupted by debts they couldn't pay back even after several lifetimes of hard work thanks to low wages."

Minoe barked out what appeared to be a repressed and bitter chuckle. "I've been orphaned because of this new age. I was taken under the wing of a courtesan in the Red Light District, where I posed as her son; she was the only family I'd ever known, and she took good care of me until her death."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Yahiko couldn't help but repeat, and Gan couldn't help but chorus. Just then, the young boy bowed his head as the word "courtesan" echoed inside it; he subsequently tried his best to forget seeing the appearance of shame and misery his mother had after he caught her and the yakuza assassin Gasuke together in the Red Light District. He knew that she did what she did to support them both, and it tore his heart apart to see her mortification firsthand.

"Ah, I'm sorry too! I said those terrible, embarrassing things out loud, didn't I?" Minoe bobbed his head like an apologetic chicken eating birdfeed. "I seem to forget myself and what I say at times! My apologies!"

"No, no. Don't be sorry. I was the one who brought the subject up." Yahiko patted the remorseful Minoe on the shoulder and bowed in seeming cadence with the eccentric young man's own submissive actions.

"Yeah, he's the insensitive dumbass here," the Hypocritical Gan quipped before he got pelted by rocks by an obscenity-spewing Yahiko and a mischievous, teasing Minoe.

A sudden announcement from behind the trio interrupted their bonding and merrymaking time. "Minoe-chan, Akahori's meeting is about to start! Hehehe," a speckled-nose Togakudan companion of Minoe's proclaimed in a mocking, child-like manner. Fortunately, the eye-patched man-child seemed for the most part too clueless or carefree to mind the patronizing treatment.

"I don't know about you two, but attendance from Togakudan members is mandatory for this particular meeting. By the way, don't you two need to meet with Akahori-dono-chi first and confirm your attendance? Anyway, I'll see you in a bit, Yahiko-chi, Gan-chi," Minoe disclosed before he got choked on the neck by a one-armed, clothesline hug from a squatting Gan.

"What're you talking about, Patches? We're going together!" the square-jawed Gan grinned in such a way that it took up half of the space on his face. "Isn't that right, Yoshi-boy?"

"I don't understand why you're coming along, but at the very least, the Oyakata actually invited me to the 'party'." Yahiko extricated a gasping and relieved Minoe from Gan's chokehold and motioned the both of them towards the manor. "Shall we?"

Gan sat up, rolled his imaginary sleeves, and asked, "By the way, do you want me to punch that Raiden clown for you, Minoe? I didn't get the opportunity earlier because I kind of wanted to make amends with your spy troop first, but seeing that they're all total assholes, I'm willing to at least smash his face in." However, Minoe shook his head at Gan in a "Don't mind sempai" manner.

"Here we go," Minoe mentioned as he followed the milling policemen and hired bodyguards to the open mansion doors and went inside the estate with Yahiko and Gan in tow.

* * *

"Today is an important day, my dear friends," Tetsuo Akahori orated just as Yahiko and the others entered the crowded ballroom hall of Tani's repossessed mansion. The three were soon blocked by another trio of Gan-sized officers. The Oyakata took the untimely interruption to catch his breath, clear his throat, and nod to let the Sanbaka in.

"You have been summoned here several weeks ago in an attempt to make you assemble together; unfortunately, this came about during a momentous event in civil unrest, which compelled those in authority whom I asked for this favor to give you the choice of either handling the Chichibu affair or the rising coup d'etat of the rebel formerly known as Amakusa Shiro. I realize that this was an unmilitary and subversive move that spat right in the face of the order and discipline that the newly formed Japanese Imperial Army or the Kiheitai before it embodied.

"However, the good sense of the army cannot cover all bases, and though our country is in a state of emergency of sorts because of the discord unleashed by the dissatisfied masses, I still thank each and every one of you for volunteering for this mission today. If you're wondering why your superiors deemed this assignment important enough to supplant the damage control of last month's riot, then I shall give you an answer for your queries. You all deserve an explanation, at the very least.

"Gentlemen, I believe that it's only natural for me to tell you about my observations and demonstrate upon what grounds I've used to make my case concerning the importance of quelling the brewing rebellion of the previously defeated yet still dangerous Amakusa faction. Yes, we've metaphorically crushed the Christian rebels of Nagasaki before. However, I must take note that it came at the price of many soldiers and members of the National Police.

"They were your husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, families, lovers, and friends... they were lives lost that could never come back. I'm fully aware that for many of you, justice and vengeance are your primary motivating factors. Conversely, even though our esteemed government is quick to advertise the quelled Modern Shimabara Rebellion to the public as one of its best military achievements since the Boshin War and the Satsuma Rebellion, I who masterminded the later parts of the operation would be the first to admit of how Pyrrhic and hollow a victory it truly was.

"I am also conscious of the mixed feelings you may have concerning the timing of this whole event. I know how betrayed you felt when the government painted the Shimabara uprising as some sort of minor revolt that the Japanese Imperial Army immediately quelled. The war we've waged back then is a secret one, and it's in fact being waged up to the present! You may not trust those in power as much as you used to, or you may even want to side with the rebels who've just been captured back in Chichibu. Nationwide moral is low, the treaties we've been forced into by foreign lands remain unfair and unreasonable, and our economy is at a seesawing stage at the present.

"No, succeeding in this undertaking won't magically solve all your problems with the state, but it does present a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take hold of your destinies and embrace a secure, safe, and happy future. In line with your own honor and dignity as protectors and upholders of the law and the Empire's best interests, this is your chance to preemptively stop a tragedy from ever developing.

"You don't have to lose any of your loved ones any longer; it's your duty to do so, but it's also a responsibility that you cannot and should not let pass. As one of those who first embarked in the common cause of safeguarding our country from the cannibalistic rust of outdated ideals and preparing it for a global future, I am here to implore you to help me finish what we've started.

"If my actions so far have not convinced you of my loyalty to you and to the unfinished business we've entered six years past back in Shimabara, my declaration tonight would be equally unconvincing and shallow. Yes, I'm asking you to kill the leader of the crazed insurgents who caused you so much grief and misery. I don't claim to be a martyr who'll act as bait for your revenge. It's also okay for you to not give a damn about my life. Think of me as cowardly. Think of me as a faithful friend of the army. It doesn't matter.

"What I offer now is closure. I've witnessed your distresses, and I've furthered your cause and calls for justice. The time has come for you to enact that justice unto your own hands for whatever cause you may have, whether it's for your duty to your country, for the sake of unleashing vengeance to those who've wronged you, or for the honor of enacting true, lasting change in a preventive yet inglorious manner.

"I've listed all of the names of the warriors who've heroically sacrificed themselves back in Shimabara, and asked their distraught next of kin or comrades if any of them wanted to join me in this quest to stop Amakusa's reign of terror. Many refused, seeking peace, and that's okay with me. There are about forty of you who've gathered here just after another revolt of sorts to bring about justice to the people that our government would rather forget. I thank you for your bravery and the strength that you'll lend me tonight."

No hearty rounds of applause or polite clapping reverberated across the large ballroom sporting staircases on either side of it that lead to a magnificent balcony of sorts where Akahori delivered his speech. However, the buzz and murmur of assent from most of the policemen and bodyguards gathered made it clear that popular opinion swayed towards the politician's favor.

"I'll get straight to the point. The person... no, the people responsible for those of you who've suffered six years worth of hell are coming here tonight, which gives you the opportunity to achieve the closure, justice, and vengeance that you so long for. By helping me capture or even kill Amakusa Shogo and his supposed Battousai Group, you'll be able to give meaning and merit to the events of the Shimabara Rebellion that the Meiji hanbatsu and history has chosen to forget."

Yahiko crossed his arms and blew a stray strand of his hair off of his forehead. He'd gotten separated from both the Suffocating Gan and the eccentric Minoe in order to get a better vantage point for Akahori's lengthy sermon.

'Humph. Will you look at that? The Oyakata sure has a way with words when it comes to furthering his agenda, unlike that fat pig Tani and his fatter sumo wrestler for a nephew who both had the subtlety of an oncoming freight train. This Akahori guy is also different from Minister Yamagata, who kept on going 'Himura this' or 'Himura that' whenever he had a problem to solve, as though he's incapable of actually doing his job. I have no idea how good of a leader Akahori is, but he can certainly talk the talk.'

The boy scratched his chin as he narrowed his eyes. 'I'm getting a whole lot of rumors, feedback, and whatnot from this Amakusa fellow and his Battousai impersonation shtick. I wonder what drove him to impersonate Kenshin from the get go, though. In any case, will he live up to the hype? Or is he nothing but a hype job and the real, legitimate threat dwells among his fanatical followers instead? That's what I want to know.'

"Yahiko-kun?" a voice from behind the Son of Tokyo Samurai asked.

Yahiko turned around and recognized two more people he knew of inside the spacious room. Kosaburo Shinichi of the Tokyo Police District smiled and waved at him alongside the asshole that Kenshin fought way back when in 1878, oddly enough. 'Hey, it's Kosaburo and the what's-his-face corrupt Satsuma policeman guy whom Kenshin wrung and laundered like a dishcloth. Small world.'

"It's good to see you again, Yahiko-kun!" Kosaburo nodded his head in greeting and then lightly slapped the shoulder of his young kendo master for good measure. "I was wondering where you went last month, what with Kaoru-san saying you were in a training trip of some sort, but here you are now! We kind of missed you back home."

"Hey, Kosaburo. I didn't know you were part of this farce," Yahiko griped with the enthusiasm of an undertaker. He then beckoned his older student with a "come hither" curl of his index finger as he pantomimed the act of whispering something urgent via his cupped hand over his mouth and shifty eyes. Kosaburo leaned forward and bought the boy's act hook, line, and sinker.

"DON'T CALL ME YAHIKO-KUN! CALL ME MASTER YAHIKO!"

Predictable as the events had been, the shout still blindsided Kosaburo like an out-of-control, six-horse carriage. "Ow. Aw, c-come on, Yahiko-shihan! I can't call you that _here_! You'll embarrass me in front of the guys!"

"You're embarrassing us right now, Kosaburo!" A tall, lean man with a cactus bristle of hair over his chin growled as he pushed his subordinate aside and faced the defiant Adjutant Master. "Hey. I remember you. You're the _real_ Battousai's kid sidekick, aren't you?"

Yahiko's face remained neutral as he puffed his chest outward in challenge of the uncouth person in front of him. "May I help you?"

The man sneered and chuckled as he rubbed his stubbly chin. "You don't remember who I am, do you?"

Yahiko raised an eyebrow, tilted his head down, and looked at "what's-his-face" from beneath his brow ridges. "Should I?"

"I am the person who fought the Battousai to a standstill," the officer hissed.

Yahiko wiped the older cop's spittle from his face. "You're a liar."

"Then you do know me!" The snarling police officer attempted to grab Yahiko's collar and pull him close, but came up short as the boy sidestepped his advance in barely a second.

"I know that I can count the people who can fight Kenshin to a standstill on one hand," Yahiko retorted.

The officer harrumphed. "I'm Ujiki Mitsuru of the Jigen School. I was the captain of the Satsuma Branch of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, but I was demoted because of Himura Battousai's connections to Yamagata. Fortunately, I was able to rise from the ranks, and..."

"Yeah. Okay. Here you are now. That's nice." Yahiko would've left this exchange at that had he not felt the need to correct Ujiki. "Uh, Kenshin married Kaoru and is part of the Kamiya family now, so he's been 'Kamiya Kenshin' instead of 'Himura Kenshin' for five years already." He also wanted to correct Akahori and Soujiro's referral to Kenshin as 'Himura', but this was the first time he ever got the opportunity to do so.

He stepped aside Ujiki's path and went straight for Kosaburo. "Who the heck's manning the Kamiya Dojo? Kaoru's too busy with Kenji to be a full-time instructor, you know."

"Well, since you, Yutaro-shihan, and even little Outa had left, I figured that I might as well join this skirmish. I've been here for three weeks now."

Yahiko blinked. "Three weeks, eh? That's... really interesting."

Unnerved by Yahiko's dismissive attitude, Ujiki taunted, "I've heard Battousai has become a cripple now, giving up his sword for the sake of getting a family. Serves him right; a murderer like him deserves nothing less than..."

"Complete that sentence, and you'll be breathing through your neck," Yahiko dared, taking a hold of his wrapped-up sword.

"Oh-ho. You dare assault an officer of the law? Bring it on, kid. And you, Kosaburo! How dare you intermingle with the friend of a murderer like Battousai!"

Kosaburo protested, "But Captain Ujiki, he's my kendo instructor! Sure, he's a lot younger than me, but I'm still the only one keeping you abreast about what's going on with Mister Kamiya!"

Just then, Akahori put his gloved hands together, rubbed them hard three times, and then used them to clap loudly and catch everyone's attention. "In any event, let's now move on to tonight's mission. Everybody, form five lines and group each other according to the place or faction you belong to. Afterwards, introduce yourselves to each other by group. From there, I'll debrief your designated leaders regarding your battle stations and individual tasks. Myojin Yahiko and friend, you can stand at the back of the Togakudan line if you still want to join in on our operation. The policemen from Tokyo will start the ceremonies."

Ujiki harrumphed, turned his back on Yahiko, did a sidelong glace, and spat, "You were lucky we were interrupted. I have other things to do."

Yahiko rolled his eyes and turned his back at almost the same time as Kenshin's past victim. "Whatever. I have nothing more to say to you anyway."

Torn between two superiors, Kosaburo yelped, "Wait up, Captain!" at Ujiki.

Yahiko left in a huff to join the only other pair of individuals he could identify aside from Ujiki and the browbeaten Kosaburo. However, he could only locate Minoe; Gan had disappeared into the crowd as well. 'I hope that lummox doesn't start a fight with the Togakudan or something.'

"Minoe, come here," Raedo beckoned with a grunt. "Bring your 'friends' with you. Akahori-sama orders it so."

"What is this, elementary school?" Yahiko muttered the same sentiment a lot of the officers and spies gathered in the ballroom shared.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **An expected visitor.

_The Four Butchers or the Shidai Nikuya included the man whom Kenshin was modeled after: Kawakami Gensai, the girly yet deadly hitokiri; a gratuitous but appropriate mention, methinks. Moreover, in the manga, Yahiko and Ujiki (the policeman who got owned by Kenshin with a single sword strike) never met._

Moreover, the long, drawn-out speech Akahori made is based on the one George Washington delivered on March 15, 1783 to stop the Continental Army from creating an insurgence. I believe it's quite the appropriate sermon to use given the context.

**Wala na akong masabi,_  
_**Abdiel


	15. Chapter 15

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

Shogo Amakusa is coming to town.

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 15: Maniac in the Mansion**

* * *

Yahiko's body froze before he leaned towards Minoe and whispered, "Did I hear the Oyakata right? Today is the date of that insurgency that the government quelled in Shimabara?"

"No," Minoe shook his eye-patched, wig-topped head. "The date for the Second Shimabara Rebellion is November the sixth, not November the fifth; tomorrow, which is just a few more hours anyway. Why? Didn't you already know?"

"Of course I didn't know!" Yahiko stomped his feet to emphasize his point while he let his arms hang in front of him like rigid, quivering bamboo canes. "I wouldn't ask you about it if I did!"

"I-I thought you knew because you said Sakaguchi-chi told you everything about the Second Shimabara Rebellion! Give me a break!" Minoe protested as his exposed eye traveled from Yahiko to the growing throng of his Togakudan cohorts. "Do we have time to talk about this?"

"We'll make time! Mister Sakaguchi only informed me about some minor details regarding the event. He hasn't told me the whole story." Yahiko grabbed hold of the front of Minoe's baggy kimono, which made the presumably older boy freeze and crane his neck back in sweat-filled reticence. "Although I am wondering why he'd know about Shimabara in... Is that Sakaguchi-san waving at us right now?"

Sure enough, right across the ballroom, a smiling Satoru Sakaguchi waved at both Yahiko and Minoe with a gloved hand that was included in his full Kanagawa police uniform after recognizing the two Sanbaka members from the crowd of law enforcement officers and spies. The flabbergasted Tokyoite guessed that Kyoko Sakuguchi's father had lingered around the foot of the stairs in order to meet with his supposed "idol", Tetsuo Akahori.

Yahiko and Minoe weakly waved back at the policeman before facing each other again. The sixteen-year-old boy then let go of his eye-patched associate. "I guess this is the reason why Sakaguchi-san went all the way from Yokohama to Shinshushin, huh?"

After a few seconds, the spiky-haired youth blinked. "Wait a minute. Are the police compulsorily assigned here or is it on a voluntary basis? I thought that since the Oyakata made a fuss with that apologetic speech of his, everyone here are either government volunteers or paid goons... er, no offense."

"None taken. But you're half-right." Minoe straightened his rumpled wardrobe out and adjusted his disheveled wig. "Even though it was compulsory for all of the neighboring Kanto district police stations to assign their cops to this meeting, each station had a limit on the number of officers to be sent here because of the fairly recent Chichibu incident; they simply had their hands full. As such, it's most likely that Sakaguchi-chi volunteered himself here because of a vendetta. On the other hand, it could just be because his family is located here in Shinshu. I'm not sure; I'm supposed to spy on Amakusa-chi's business, not Sakaguchi-chi's."

'Mister Sakaguchi might have volunteered to join this screwy little mission from the get go instead of being forced into it by his superiors. He could even have an honest-to-goodness vendetta against Amakusa, which explains why Akahori has seemingly brainwashed him in terms of what really happened back in Shimabara.' Yahiko also wondered if there were any would-be Enishi Yukishiros present in Akahori's audience who longed to bring about their own brand of earthly justice against the Christian because their loved ones couldn't do so from beyond the grave.

'Come to think of it, I'm guessing this Shimabara business happened during the same time that Enishi and his Five Comrades attacked Kenshin and all of us linked to him. Looks like the government screwed up _again_, seeing that Kenshin was too busy fighting the demons of his past to bail those filthy politicians out.'

Although aware of the absurdity and improbability of involving Kenshin and the rest of the "Kenshingumi" into this Shogo Amakusa debacle, Yahiko nevertheless speculated what could've happened were they tasked by the Meiji Government to deal with this religious rebel. 'Maybe Kenshin would've stopped this Battousai wannabe from supposedly killing a 'thousand' men... Huh. I guess Amakusa really _is_ a Battousai wannabe, what with the stolen name and the ability to mimic Kenshin's talent in killing a veritable army all by himself.'

Yahiko felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned and saw Minoe urging him to join the Togakudan line. The young man sighed and strutted right behind his insistent companion. "By the way, Minoe: what's the limit of police officers per Kanto station?"

"Well, there's a limit of ten, so that's ten from Gunma, ten from Kanagawa, ten from Tokyo, and ten from here in Kamiminochi. Add us thirteen Togakudan members and you two fine gentlemen, and there're about fifty-five of us protecting Oyakata-dono-chi's hide, so to speak.

Yahiko shuddered. Fifty-five. As Sanosuke eventually told him after Shishio's coup d'etat failed, _any_ member of the Juppon Gatana... especially Soujiro and some other blind swordsman Saito probably slaughtered... could murder fifty police officers in a row if given enough time. "Broom Head" Chou could probably do so in a couple of hours, while "Psycho-Kid" Soujiro could accomplish that in under an hour; thirty minutes if he were motivated.

Yahiko had another epiphany; he'd been getting so many since he'd arrived at this mansion that he wondered if Tani's house had been built on Buddhist holy ground or if a mummified "Sokushinbutsu" monk had been buried underneath where they currently stood. "Minoe, did you or didn't you recognize Akahori to be the same Oyakata we betted against at the Shinshu Market cockpits?"

Minoe waited for all three seconds before stating, "Nope. I'm glad you brought it up earlier, or else I would've never known." He giggled as he adjusted his eye patch.

"H-He's your own boss and...? N-Never mind." Yahiko closed his gaping mouth shut with a push of his knuckles, palmed his forehead and slid his hand across his face, slumped his shoulders, and exhaled in due acceptance.

The absentminded Minoe tried getting Akahori's attention by bending his torso to the side of the Togakudan line and waving at him like a demented, costumed monkey, but the Oyakata proved far too busy speaking to the leaders of the different Kanto-based police groups to notice him.

"With all things considered, including his creepiness, he's a nice guy all-in-all, isn't he? I mean, he even helped us escape that mob of angry gamblers yesterday!" Minoe remarked in the middle of his frantic gesticulation.

Yahiko harrumphed. "A 'question mark' is more like it."

"Who's the question mark? Who are we talking about? The Oyakata or Officer Daddy?" Gan somehow weaseled into Yahiko and Minoe's private dialogue, listening in the whole time.

"Maybe both," Yahiko replied, ignoring Gan's use of his head as a chin coaster and the urge to knock the big lug out because he had far more important issues to mull over. 'Are you putting your ass on the line to stop some deluded Christian nut or are you covering it up by using the vengeful loved ones of the Shimabara army, Oyakata-dono?'

After everybody had formed their lines and the drone of the congregating masses had died down, Akahori spoke, thanking the leaders and captains of the respective hired bodyguards and volunteer policemen for indulging his request for assistance.

Meanwhile, Yahiko couldn't help but glare at the bungling yet flippant attitude of the gathered Kamiminochi Police. Seeing their lack of earnestness throughout Akahori's elaborate ceremonies, the youth reckoned that most of them were just rent-a-cops and fakers jockeying for better positions in major Kanto police headquarters by currying favor from the presumably powerful politician.

If only they'd done their jobs instead of begging Akahori for scraps like tongue-wagging dogs, then perhaps the real Battousai Group wouldn't have bothered to put Keisuke and his band of minor bandits out of their misery. Maybe Kyoko wouldn't have been forced to see so much blood and murder. Most of all, Yahiko hated the fact that he wouldn't have been riddled with three-week-old injuries had the Kamiminochi Police done their duty. He squeezed his right hand into a ball, imagining the feeling of connecting his knuckles onto the cheekbone of the Kamiminochi District's Chief of Police or Captain.

Minoe nudged Yahiko, which woke him up from this revenge fantasy and compelled him to stand up in attention. "Uh, thanks, Minoe. What's happening?"

"The police captains and Raedo-sempai are starting the introductions, Yahiko-chi," Minoe informed as he smoothened his pleated hakama and straightened his fake hair with a casual toss. Once the eye-patched fellow noticed Yahiko's lingering stare, he covered himself with his arms and shot back a questioning glance. The Tokyoite shook his head in assurance that nothing was amiss and focused his mind on the proceedings.

The back of Yahiko's bushy head somehow managed to form a large bead of sweat despite his hair's denseness. The Oyakata elected to have each and every one of the gathered multitude briefly introduce himself by telling everybody present his name, his place origin, and his personality traits.

Soon, because of tired legs and the sheer amount of people in attendance, Akahori allowed everybody to sit down and listen to the introductions. Yahiko's brows furrowed over his squinted, tired eyes as the extensive show and tell progressed, up until the point that it hooded over his face like the brim of a hat. The whole situation felt so droll to him that he could barely remember the names of his fellow bodyguards anyway.

If Yahiko were forced with a knife over his neck, maybe he could name a couple of those faceless strangers. Or perhaps they weren't so faceless; the Tokyo contingent, as he expected, were composed of assholes and bullies cut from the same cloth as the all-bark-no-bite Raijuta, with the sole exception of his student and fellow survivor from the wrath of Hyogo "Whale Mouth" Kujiranami, Kosaburo. He also deemed it a shame that none of the other motley crew of Tokyo officers that helped him face down Enishi's cannon-wielding subordinate were part of the Tokyo police contingent.

In stark contrast, the Gunma District's band of brothers served as the beta-males and sycophants of the Tokyo group, which made them no better than the backstabbing Kanryu or the strange Houji fellow that Sanosuke kept telling Yahiko about. People like those annoyed him to no end, as though they lacked the spine to be their own man... their own men... or something. As for Kanagawa's finest, the boy felt rather ambivalent towards them, especially considering the fact that Satoru Sakaguchi was part of their ranks. Finally, the Togakudan troop's collective cold shoulder of the purported "Sanbaka" didn't surprise Yahiko in the least, since Gan bested them in a dog pile "contest" a while back for Minoe's sake.

In terms of the superiority food chain, Yahiko reckoned that Tokyo was on top, Kanagawa was in second place, then came Gunma, then maybe either the Togakudan or the Kamiminochi Police occupied the last spot, much to the Togakudan-grouped samurai's chagrin.

Then again, generalizations aside, Yahiko did bother taking note of the names of the captains of each division. The Tokyo branch had the aforementioned Ujiki, the Gunma branch had the overly optimistic and short-for-a-captain Kujo, Kanagawa had the normal-to-the-point-of-dreariness Yamada, Kamiminochi had the pudgy and aloof Nakayama, and the Togakudan had Mikio Nagaoka's cousin, Raedo.

Also, even though everyone managed to keep their introductions brief enough to consume only thirty minutes, by the fifteenth minute, it felt to Yahiko like an hour had already passed by.

"Okay, so far there's Raiden-sempai, Big Eyes, Gay Playboy, Baby Face, Chinese Dumpling Man, Frog Lips, Shaolin Reject, the Bulldog, Mister Forgettable, Dead Kid, Pumpkin Head, Speckle Nose, Tumbleweed Hair, and Patches!" Gan enumerated while again using Yahiko's spiky hair as a chinrest of sorts.

"Hey, Yoshi-boy; how about I call you Spike from now on? You know, because of the hair! I think Spike suits you. Or maybe Dandruff," Gan supposed as he scratched his itchy neck.

Yahiko headbutted Gan's chin and reclaimed his personal space from the bulky invader. "What are you doing?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm trying to memorize everyone's names here in the Togakudan group." Gan rubbed his jaw while pushing Yahiko's face down on the floor with little to no effort. "Since the Oyakata has grouped us with them, then I might as well get to know them. It's the polite thing to do."

Yahiko struggled to get the Tubby Gan's frying-pan hands off of his head and bit the brute's fingers. "Those aren't their names! No wonder they're all glaring daggers at you right now; those are playground insults, not names!"

"Shush, it's already Patches' turn to introduce himself," Gan declared as he sat up straight and hooted alongside Minoe's other tormentors, the insensitive lout. Unbeknownst to Yahiko, it was nearly his and Gan's turn to introduce themselves as well, and Minoe had already started his introductions.

"I'm M-Minoe. Minoe Munenori. I'm pleased to m-meet you all, guntai-tachi-chi..." the effeminate Minoe squeaked the last word out amidst the Togakudan's mocking shouts of, "Minoe-chi is so cute! Sing to us, Minoe-chi!", "Boo! I don't like this show! Give us back our money!", and "Take it off now!" His ears then perked up as he heard Yahiko shout, "Come on, Minoe. That wasn't what you said to me when we first met!"

The whole room became very quiet as both Yahiko and Minoe turned red then blue at the implications of what the samurai boy blurted out.

Just as the room erupted into boisterous guffaws and uncontrollable giggles at the pair's expense, Minoe met Yahiko's eyes, grinned, and shouted, "My personal name is Munenori and my surname is Minoe, and every time you meet me, you'll meet someone new!" amidst all the noise. Yahiko groaned yet managed to smile back all the same for the diminutive and frail man's sake.

"Hey lover boy, what's _your_ name?" some of the rowdier officers in the Gunma and Tokyo groups hurled taunts at Yahiko while both the embarrassed Sakaguchi and Kosaburo looked away and pretended to not know the young lad.

Yahiko stood up and posed as dramatically as he could despite his flustered face, quivering lip, and inward cringing. "It's Myojin Yahiko, and don't any of you forget it."

A long, condescending chorus of "Oooooooooooooh!" filled the spacious room, which was quickly followed with more laughter. Minoe, on his part, scuttled behind Yahiko and used his tempestuous savior as a shield of sorts. "Thanks for standing up for me," the eye-patched eccentric murmured.

"Er... Yeah. Sure." Even a smart aleck like Yahiko had no comeback for that. 'At least I didn't have to come in front of the group and introduce myself. I guess," he reassured himself. The two afterwards stared forward as the third member of their jury-rigged team cracked his knuckles and licked his chops from behind them.

"Guess it's my turn. Stand aside, Yoshi-boy! Patches! I'm coming through," Gan announced as he stood up and did some stretching exercises.

"Nobody wants to know who you are. Sit back down." Yahiko's unenthusiastic reproach fell on deaf ears.

The Gargantuan Gan barreled between the Togakudan and Gunma lines, slid into position at the center of the ballroom just below the arched balcony, and proclaimed while pointing at nowhere in particular, "Hello. I am the Great Gan. I've been known as the Soba King as well as the Dumpling Emperor. Thanks to those two lovebirds you just saw, I have the potential to become the Cockpit God too. I've once eaten the entire stock of a restaurant in one sitting, and I've broken ten chairs in ten sittings. I am capable of playing the biwa for money, except I don't have it with me right now, so you'll have to take my word for it. I admire the Shinsengumi and loathe the Meiji Government."

"What is he talking about?" Yahiko asked Minoe.

Minoe replied, "I have no clue."

Yahiko palmed his face. "He's going to get us killed even before the Battousai Group gets here."

The Vociferous Gan continued. "I'm not averse to a brawl, but I hate it when people resort to low blows, eye pokes, and nipple twists to get an edge. I'm not saying I'm all about fair play, but I can beat anyone in a fair fight. I'm great at turning your mundane names into something awesome. I've also been humiliated, beaten down to a pulp, had my heart served on a pike, and had my dignity shat upon by the realities of the world. With that said, I'm ready for anything, even the end of times. Again, I'm the Great Gan of Okinawa, and I'm here because I want to become the Great Gan of Everything Under the Sun, whether it's eating or guard duty. Howdy."

"No, we're not with him. Don't listen to him; I swear, he just followed us here. Ignore him," Yahiko desperately pleaded to the nearest Togakudan member beside him and Minoe. The temptation to destroy the wooden floorboards in order to make the ensuing wreckage swallow him whole and let him escape from the increasingly mortifying circumstances grew by the second.

* * *

About four hours before midnight, the Three Stooges...

"STOP CALLING US THAT!" Gan and Yahiko screamed at the cluelessly gawking Minoe.

"But I didn't say anything!" Minoe protested.

The pair scratched their noggins and blinked unanimously.

In any event, a few hours before midnight, Yahiko and the others...

Gan and Minoe glared at Yahiko.

Yahiko was taken aback by the sudden hostility. "What?"

_Anyway_, a few hours before midnight, Yahiko, Gan, and Minoe were assigned to guard the top of the stairs leading straight to Akahori's chambers.

Learning from the mistakes of the politicians Amakusa killed beforehand six years ago, Akahori decided to give his bodyguards... policemen, spies, and two other strangers he met in a round of cockpit betting... some unusual orders hand-in-hand with the usual ones involving the places they were assigned to guard so that all five teams could spread out across the mansion yet would also converge on the enemy at a moment's notice if needed.

In particular, Togakudan members like Minoe were all assigned to wander around and act as the policemen's eyes and ears, alerting a given group whenever an intruder enters the property.

Suzuki "Raedo" Nagaoka elected to place the three at the ballroom's atrium in order to minimize any Minoe-related bumbling in a contained area. Yahiko and Gan, being the outsiders that they were, followed Minoe along. After all, from their point of view, Akahori had given them carte blanche to wander anywhere they wanted, and the ballroom was as good a place as any.

"What the hell is curtain-beard thinking, making us do all sorts of embarrassing games and 'ice breakers' with the police and the Togakudan! I mean, we're not going to a festival, we're trying to protect him from some religious nut!"

"'Group Development', he called it," Gan recalled. "That'd never catch on."

Minoe put his hands together, tilted his head to the side, and left his mouth open in a manner wherein there was more tongue than teeth present. "Well, it did help everyone get to know each other better. We've become so much closer!"

Gan and Yahiko dolefully stared at Minoe. "What? I didn't even mention the 'Sanbaka' in that last sentence!" The eye-patched man-boy pouted and waved his arms and legs around, swinging back and forth the floor like a pendulum.

Yahiko massaged the throbbing vein on his temple. "No, no. We're staring at you because you were bullied by both the Tokyo and Gunma police as well as your own Togakudan members! They were calling you names behind your back, tapping your shoulder then looking away, and... well, it seems like you've somehow unleashed the playground bully in all of those men, Minoe! It's nice to be optimistic, but you shouldn't turn a blind eye over that!"

"Then again, Yoshi-boy, those Tokyo hotshots were all acting like Grade-A shit wagons. Do all Tokyoites have their heads up their asses?" Gan supposed, somewhat upset that the spies and the officers weren't terribly impressed with his earlier introduction.

"Hey! You should talk, you country bumpkin!" Yahiko yelped with wide-eyed indignation. "The way you barreled across the Togakudan line and embarrassed yourself in front of everybody is beyond words! I mean, honestly! Who cares how many chairs you've broken with your big, fat ass? Have some dignity, man! You give yokels and hillbillies everywhere a bad name."

"Who cares? I'm from Okinawa!" Gan looked at Yahiko as though the boy had just flaunted a pus-filled zit on his nipple. "Personally, I think the Oyakata should have asked the Osaka Police to come here instead of those Tokyo or Gunma chumps," the heavily built man reckoned while picking his nose. "Take it from someone who has traveled far and wide the entirety of Japan; the people from the old capital have manners and lack airs, unlike you higher-than-thou city slickers and your over-inflated sense of entitlement!"

Yahiko's mental image of the Immodest Gan who used him as a means to win a bet... and get out of one... was unquestionably at odds with the same man who had the gall and the over-inflated sense of entitlement to criticize others' over-inflated sense of entitlement. Because his mind was boggled enough to scramble his thoughts to gibberish, the boy just closed his eyes, slapped his forehead, and left things at that.

Sensing the tension in the room, Minoe reproved his fellow Sanbaka members. "Let's leave those policemen be. We're all on the same side here. Besides, you two shouldn't compare the Tokyo police with the Osaka police anyway. Both of those teams have their respective pros and cons."

Yahiko followed Minoe's lead, stating, "I agree. Let's drop the subject, Gan. Comparing those two districts is like comparing apples to oranges anyway; they couldn't and shouldn't be compared."

Minoe chuckled a bit while self-consciously adjusting his eye patch and rubbing his bandaged arms. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Yahiko-chi, but what you said just now is such a silly thing for anyone to say! Of course you can compare oranges and apples. First off, they're both fruit. Secondly, they both have an outer shell. Thirdly, they both have seeds inside."

"I kind of forgot what we were arguing about, but Patches does have a point," Gan remarked as he rubbed his lantern jaw in impressed agreement.

'Ow, my head. These two will be the death of me,' Yahiko lamented as he did his best to ignore the Two Stooges' attempts at being philosophical. Once he got over the mentally scarring effects of yet another Sanbaka comedy skit, his breathing became shallower than before. Out of the blue, at this unholy hour, the gravity of the entire situation dawned upon him.

Yahiko and his questionable cohorts were about to help an army of policemen and spies confront a man who might or might not have killed a thousand soldiers exactly six years ago (give or take a couple of hours) plus his other followers; he'd soon find out firsthand if what he'd been hearing about this Amakusa person was hogwash or an unbelievable truth.

'Stronger than Shishio? Stronger than Kenshin? Bullshit. I bet even Psycho-Kid can beat him to a fine red mulch when given the chance.' Yahiko snorted, but his derisiveness soon became pain as his old wounds after battling Soujiro flared anew. Since he hadn't been straining himself, he believed the pain was all in his head. He hoped. 'I better get my priorities straight, though. There are now fifty-four warriors and a politician's life under my watch.'

'Fifty-five,' the Kenshin in his mind reminded him. 'You have a responsibility for protecting yourself as well.'

'Fine,' he assured his imaginary idol as he rubbed the troublesome sword scars all over his body. 'Fifty-six, actually, if Psycho-Kid is still around,' he corrected as an afterthought. Right then, a second passed, followed by a minute, followed by a half hour.

* * *

Thirty minutes after midnight, while the Sanbaka struggled to keep themselves awake, an altercation happened right at the front yard of Akahori's rented mansion.

Everything became a blur. At least, that was how the baggage-totting man viewed the situation. Even while carrying his awkward luggage, he could probably handle the ten guards posted at the iron gate with little to no problem. A dismemberment here, a beheading there, and everything would be all right. Then again, thanks to his important package, perhaps he didn't need to dehumanize in his mind his enemies just to get the job done after all.

The ten-man-strong Gunma contingent was ready for anything, including a one-man army capable of slaying a thousand men by himself or any of his zealot followers who'd sacrifice life and limb for their leader. Instead, they were treated with the spectacle of a cloaked figure leaping across treetops and passing over the mansion walls while carrying a sack of potatoes or something.

Gunma's representative Togakudan assistants sounded the whistle alarm to inform the rest of the manor of the Battousai Group's expected arrival. Meanwhile, the Gunma policemen aimed their guns and fired at the figure. However, since they had no choice but to shoot four rifles at a time thanks to the narrow bars of the gates, the fleet-footed stranger was able to escape by running away from their limited line of fire.

Some of the officers helped each other climb the ten-foot wall while the rest of the men reloaded their firearms. Kujo, the diminutive Gunma captain, had enough common sense to fire his load at the locks so that the gate would open. However, because he had no prior experience in busting locks, he mistakenly fired his custom, bayonet-fitted Murata bolt-action rifle at the padlock to little effect. As such, he opted to break through the gate the old-fashioned way: striking the lock with his gun's butt.

"I've always heard that you can shoot a lock out, but I guess I heard wrong!" he quipped to a subordinate, who in turn could only shake his head in exasperation.

By the time the gate was opened and the scrambling Gunma police were able to gather themselves into a more cohesive fighting force, the supposed Battousai doppelganger had already made a beeline towards the center of the yard, right in front of the lamp-lighted balcony leading straight to Tetsuo Akahori's private quarters.

"AKAHORI! Come out, you conniving bastard! How dare you use these people to keep your worthless hide safe!" More and more policemen crawled out of the woodwork, yielding their bayonet-equipped rifles and firing hot lead in droves. In response, the man unleashed an earth-shattering avalanche via a one-handed strike. He didn't even bother unsheathing his stark-black weapon or letting go of the carry-on luggage he slung over his shoulder.

"Amakusa Shiro, is that you? I've heard you've changed your name. I was afraid you've gotten a representative from your 'Battousai Group' to kill me, but it's nice to see that you're as predictable as you've always been," Tetsuo Akahori called out minutes later as he emerged from his room to the balcony while the smiling Soujiro tailed right behind him.

"Have you abandoned your god yet? You're no closer to killing me than you were six years ago, regardless of what historical figure you're trying to impersonate this time. Before, it was Amakusa Shiro. Now, it's Himura Battousai. Let me tell you right now, it won't make a difference whatsoever."

"Tell your goons to stand down. I haven't abandoned my people, and I will not abandon my God. I concede nothing. I've prayed for a long time to get to this moment. You're the last person standing in the way of my followers' salvation," Amakusa announced as the dust cleared.

The rest of the police came out with loaded guns and twitchy trigger fingers. Raedo and his troop efficiently led as many of the spread-out law enforcement as they possibly could. The much-lauded and fully experienced Tokyo group were followed shortly by the Kanagawa reinforcements. The heavy resonance of moving artillery could be heard inside the mansion as several Togakudan assisted in carting a cannon and a Gatling gun to the foyer.

"They're not my goons. They're volunteers as well as officers who've sworn to uphold the law and protect the innocent. What's more, a lot of these gentlemen are related in one way or another to the people you and your followers slaughtered back in Shimabara," Akahori disclosed as he regarded Amakusa with mirth while putting his elbows on the railings of his terrace and hiding his face behind interlocked hands. "Feel free to reacquaint yourselves."

The ominous click-clack of dozens of cocking guns were heard as one of the other captains... the rotund Captain Nakayama from the Kamiminochi District... confronted the religious rebel alongside two of his men.

"You bastard! I've heard of your newly formed terrorist organization. You're an enemy of honor and a mass murderer to boot. Christians are holier-than-thou hypocrites that deserve to be butchered into mush!"

From there, the good captain dashed with his saber in hand while his two subordinates launched their own respective attacks... one firing his rifle while the other charging with his gun's bayonet. With every swing of his blade, Nakayama screamed, "This is for Hiramatsu! And Ryuzoji! Remember those names, because they're not just insects to be squashed! Flies to be swatted...!"

"You and your government were prepared to ethnically cleanse my people! I did what I had to do." With his face contorted with an unknowable emotion, Amakusa parried Nakayama's first few strikes, flung his baggage high up in the air, grabbed hold of the stout captain's saber, pulled him in, and used him as a shield for the approaching bullets.

"Father, forgive them. They know not what they do," Amakusa murmured in prayer as he kicked the injured officer away, jumped straight up to avoid a bayonet strike, and sliced the offending weapon in two as he rose.

The eyes of Tokyo's Captain Ujiki dilated into saucers as a wave of reminiscence engulfed him; the sight of the acrobatic yet deadly Amakusa reminded him of someone very familiar. In fact, his spine flared in pain anew in remembrance of those sweeping sword arcs delivered in blinding speed. 'So that's why he formed himself a Battousai Group.'

A few moments later, after he caught his belongings in midair, landed, and set it down on a nearby tree, the red-haired cult leader charged right on top of his third attacker and cut apart his clothes with a mind-bogglingly sharp scabbard before the policeman could reload his gun or opt to charge with the bayonet as well. The rest of the Kamiminochi police force knelt down and began firing at will as the long-haired assassin backtracked into the shadows.

In a flash, Amakusa somersaulted towards his package just as Nakayama attempted to open it, the former's unsheathed blade just inches away from the latter's face after it implanted itself unto the ground.

The portly Kamiminochi captain scrambled to his feet, grabbed hold of his hemorrhaging side, and bared his teeth as he spat, "I've been waiting for you and you alone, Amakusa! All of my men have. You're going to pay for your crimes against this nation and the people that you've killed, you arrogant son of a bitch."

Amakusa narrowed his eyes into slits so thin that it looked like he'd winced instead of glared. Meanwhile, Captain Kujo and his Gunma contingent eventually caught up, flanking Amakusa at the rear and cutting off his nearest route for a possible escape. "Captain Nakayama! Please tell your men to stand down! We're going to fire on the rebel assassin, and you're all in the way! You can't win against him through a swordfight! We have to pursue him through gunfire and our sheer numbers!"

"NO! It's my men who will pursue him! We've been practicing for months' on end with how to best kill him! We will have his head on a pike before daybreak!" Captain Nakayama signaled three of his men to ready their rifles, three others to ready their gun's bayonets, and the remaining men... including the two whose guns were destroyed... to brandish their sabers. The Kamiminochi captain himself readied his own blade.

"If any of us here fails to finish Amakusa off right here and now, feel free to shoot at him anyway regardless of whether or not we're in the line of fire!" Nakayama declared with certainty even as a murmur of uncertainty and dread filled the Kamiminochi party.

"You moron," Captain Kujo intoned, but he nevertheless signaled his Gunma contingent to stand their ground and ready their guns for firing also.

With no time for them to stage a mutiny or even express their lamentations, the mad captain signaled his nine cohorts to do their respective tasks as he engaged against Amakusa via a duel to the death. "AMAKUSA! I'm going to shake you down your pedestal and bring you back to earth even if I have to risk my life! We all feel the same way! I'll make you understand the gravity of your sins! You think yourself as some sort of savior? You're a god to your people? Then bring back to life the cops and soldiers you've murdered, zealot!"

Amakusa smashed the flat side of his scabbard into the perspiring and bleeding Captain Nakayama's face as he was again forced to leap away because of the bayonet-wielding officers. However, that left him vulnerable to rifle shots from not only the assigned three gunners, but also from the three cops who attempted to run him through. A spray of blood emerged from the rebel's left forearm as the saber-brandishing policemen waited for him to land back to the ground.

Praying under his breath, Amakusa twirled and evaded the waiting sabers before slashing his sword-carrying attackers from behind with enough force to knock them down. As he touched down on the ground, the riflemen and the bayonet chargers exchanged places, the latter loading their rifles while the former charged with their spears. From behind him, Amakusa heard Captain Nakayama decree, "You can't bring back the people you've killed, can you? That's why we're here."

"You came here to get killed too? I thought death cannot be undone. What you say makes no sense to me," Amakusa retorted as he ducked and dodged the ensuing gunfire, but the officers managed to hit him at the side and at the elbow all the same. To the surprise of the Battousai Group's founder, Captain Nakayama somehow stabbed the tip of his saber into the rebel's free hand.

"Get off your high horse! My men and I are here because we're willing to risk our lives to put down monsters like you! These warriors you've indiscriminately killed and even the men you've killed just now have names. Identities. Lives. Souls." Nakayama twisted his blade and pushed hard just as his remaining men began their attacks anew. "Once they're dead, they cannot be brought back. They cannot be replaced or substituted. It disgusts me that you probably have no idea who among the hundreds you've killed are Hiramatsu and Ryuzoji!"

Amakusa struggled to remove his hand from Nakayama's sword, but he didn't have time to do so. From all corners, men brandishing either blades or bayonet-equipped rifles swarmed him like bees from a disturbed hive, so he had no choice but to parry and use the ranting captain as his shield of sorts.

"Ryuzoji, who had an aloof personality that belied his subdued kindness! Hiramatsu, who loved to cook for his pregnant wife when she could not! What gives you the right to kill them? You were protecting your people? Bullshit! You're a criminal who has damned your two-faced flock to a life of eternal persecution because of your absurd, dishonorable ways!"

Nakayama stared at Kujo meaningfully, which the Gunma squadron took as the signal to fire, regardless of who would serve to become the collateral damage in the ensuing shootout. At any rate, it would be the surest way to kill a man allegedly capable of killing all of them in mere minutes.

Everything became crystal clear at that moment. At least, that was how Amakusa saw things as his mind went into overdrive to tackle the worsening situation at hand. In normal circumstances, he would have been able to handle this ten-person circus with little to no problem, even if they were to join forces with the other teams who waited for their turn to kill him. A sliced-off leg here, a gutted abdomen there, and all would be resolved.

The bodyguards flew across the exploding debris, but no evidence of fire or gunpowder was present. To the long-haired figure before them, everyone became a nameless, soulless statistic during times of strife and war. As the Meiji Government would itself attest, unless you were important enough to protect, you were nothing more than mere cannon fodder.

However, he didn't need to go through the trouble of killing these men whom he owed a sinful debt that could never be repaid. He didn't need to, he didn't have to, and he didn't want to: he already had the situation under control even before he arrived at the mansion, anyway.

"I know I made a mistake. I'm sorry. But I have no intention of paying for it for the rest of my life. I need to move on. I need to fight to survive. I need to push forward for the sake of my followers."

Amidst the chaos that he'd just unleashed, Amakusa walked calmly towards the tree where his valuable package lay. "I want one thing and one thing only... I want Akahori Tetsuo dead. That's all I ask. Standing in my way, as you've seen, is utter foolishness."

* * *

It was three hours before midnight, and Gan yawned. The tragic thing about the current circumstances was the fact that _that_ was the most exciting thing that happened all night. "Dammit, where is that Amakusa Kumamoto bastard? I'm bored, and he's a liar. He promised to get here in time, and he's already late. Is he going to blow us off at the last minute? What a jerk. What, does he intend to be fashionably late?"

"Maybe his watch is set at the wrong time?" Minoe purred as he curled up into the corner window and idly scratched his neck.

"Maybe he got the date wrong?" Yahiko chimed in, but immediately regretted it. Damn, he'd been hanging out with the Gan and Minoe Manzai Comedy Tour for too long; he was getting infected by them or something.

"I have dibs on the three o'clock shift." Gan stretched and reclined himself idly like one of those famous Buddha statues, except he looked more like the fat Buddha.

"You'll take the three o'clock shift, then?" Minoe asked with a yawn.

"No. I'll be sleeping by then. You two go ahead and stand on guard," Gan mumbled as he scratched his buttocks.

"You're half-asleep right now! Pick a time to stand guard and stick with it! You can't have your cake and eat it too!" Yahiko covered his mouth, realizing too late that he had added more fodder for the nonsense-spewing Minoe to nitpick upon. He pointed at the eye-patched Togakudan and ranted, "And _you_! Not one word! Don't you dare say, 'What's the point of having cake if you're not going to eat it anyway?' You know what I meant!"

Minoe blinked at Yahiko and tilted his head sideways. "Everybody knows what that saying means, Yahiko-chi. 'You can't have it both ways'. Please stop acting so childish."

"Uh, yeah. Uh-huh. It was _so_ obvious, Yoshi-boy. Duh," Gan weakly echoed Minoe's sentiments while inwardly wondering about the logic of having cake and not eating it.

Yahiko turned away from the two and mused, 'Why do I even bother? You can never win with these two.'

About thirty minutes passed, then an hour, followed by another hour. After the third hour, the trio felt fatigue creep in and force their eyelids to succumb to the inviting darkness. Minoe curled in a fetal position, Gan swayed back and forth using his metal club as a swivel, and Yahiko bit his lip in order to stay awake and aware.

Half-asleep, Yahiko harrumphed to no person in particular, "We might as well turn in for the night," as he stretched out his arms and shook his hands all about, surprised that it was he instead of Gan who uttered that specific line of discourse.

"I mean, it's rather unlikely that the Battousai Group would arrive at this late an hour. Looks like your precious Togakudan and Mister 'I'm right all the time, fear my beard!' Oyakata made Kanto's men-in-blue bark at the wrong tree."

Minoe shrugged and snuggled closer to the nearby corner to keep himself warm. "Not that it will matter anyway. For a month, the policemen that arrived here earlier on even before the business at Chichibu happened have been following false alarms in order to ensure that no sneak attack happens, and they entertained each and every last one of them all the time. Batch per batch, district per district, more officers came to this place. We're up to our third and fourth batch: the Kanagawa and Gunma contingents."

The Togakudan runt rubbed his hands together and blew on them. "If only there weren't an earlier rebellion, we may have gotten a whole infantry from the National Police or the Imperial Army. Today's an important date, so if the Battousai Group doesn't arrive now, it's a lost cause for both the terrorists and the government. Akahori-dono-chi, even before we met him, had already planned everything from the start."

"Oh, so you're still awake?" Yahiko questioned, surprised at how light a sleeper Minoe was. "So what do you think about that, Gan?"

Gan replied with a resounding snore.

"Right. Of course you'd already be asleep and snoring like a hippo, you swine." Yahiko harrumphed before unleashing his own guttural yawn and smacking his lips to taste his tiredness. He shouldn't have wasted so much time playing coy with Akahori's request for assistance yesterday. "Dammit, I should've taken the earlier shifts instead of the later ones. Damn brute beat me to it..."

"I could take this shift if you want, Yahiko-CHIIIII!" Minoe offered before yelping as Gan took him by the neck and shook him like a toy rattle. "Oh, Weasel-chan! I knew you weren't a boy! Kiss me now and prove your femininity!"

"Hey, let go of him, Gan! You're just having a nightmare!" Yahiko yelled as he did his best to extricate Gan's grubby fingers from the swirl-eyed and suffocating Minoe.

"Eh?" Gan murmured, wiping the drool off of his chin. "Is it morning already?"

"Since you're awake, Minoe and I are giving this hour's shift back to you. Good night," Yahiko declared, propping the surprisingly soft and sweet-smelling Minoe on the wall before he slammed his head against said wall.

'What am I thinking? Damn, I didn't know Gan's hidden preferences were contagious! Not that there's anything wrong with it.' To Minoe, he asked, "Are you all right?"

Minoe shrunk away from Yahiko and blurted, "Y-Yes, Y-Yahiko-kun."

Yahiko raised an eyebrow at Minoe. "Yahiko-kun?"

"Chi. Yahiko-kun-chi. I mean, Yahiko-chi. Chi. Hehehe."

Gan whistled low, grabbing the back of his bandanna-wearing head with his hands. "So should I leave you two to 'sleep' or what?"

Yahiko and Minoe were just about to protest Gan's insinuations when the shriek of a whistle was heard by all of them. After glaring at the darkness for a few moments, they followed the multitude of footstep thumps and the crackle of gunfire that echoed all the way to the ballroom.

'He's here,' was the unsaid sentiment between the three unlikely comrades.

* * *

"Have you grown soft, Amakusa? I've heard that you were able to topple fifty people within a half-hour without so much as a sweat from the survivors of the Modern Shimabara War... so much so that there are historians considering to rename it the Shimabara Massacre."

The wanly smiling Soujiro raised an eyebrow at Akahori's revelation, chiefly remembering that the best of the Juppon Gatana... himself, Usui, and Anji... needed to take the better part of an hour to finish off a battalion of fifty policemen. 'So Amakusa-san created the Battousai Group, eh? I get the feeling I know which one he is.'

Akahori chortled, though it came out more like a harsh, accusatory cough than anything resembling amusement. "Perhaps the killings have affected you mentally? Maybe some of your inconvenient Christian values are messing with your murderous, duplicitous head? You're certainly going out of your way to not kill my bodyguards. That's quite unlike the mass murderer that people knew you as."

Emboldened by Akahori's words, a second volley of shots was fired, which kept the Christian from getting to his supposedly prized possession. As usual, Amakusa leapt out of the way to avoid the shots, which was an action that the gunmen issuing the third volley anticipated. What they didn't expect was the rebel pirouetting like a top and avoiding the bullets with the grace of a humanoid tornado. Bayonets awaited him at his landing spot, but he did away with them with a sweeping arc of his lengthy shining blade.

"Can you stand to take another life? Or rather, are you capable of even doing that at this point in time?" Akahori wondered with a scratch of his beard. Meanwhile, the rest of the Togakudan were busy dragging back into the mansion the bruised, injured, but veritably living policemen of the Gunma and Kamiminochi districts. Even Captain Nakayama, who was at the epicenter of Amakusa's earth-shattering blast, was none the worse for wear.

More policemen fired off their rifles at Amakusa as their reinforcements arrived. They crawled from all corners of the mansion, riddling the landscape with holes. As expected of a man capable of facing down an entire regiment of Japan's finest soldiers, he backtracked right into the gunners' fellow police so that they couldn't risk shooting at him recklessly, with not one bullet touching him all the while.

Stray projectiles landed just inches away from Amakusa's bag, producing chips of flying wood and bark. This compelled the enigmatic cult leader to move right into the line of fire to save his luggage from being damaged. The hot lead seared into his flesh, but he remained steadfast in protecting his belongings. "You're right. I'm not here to harm any of you! I only came here for Akahori! Why are you all protecting him? Why are you willing to sacrifice your life for a scumbag like him?"

Akahori answered back, "They're not doing this for me, Amakusa. They aren't here to protect me; they're here to kill you. They're doing this for all the people you and your followers have murdered back in Shimabara six years ago! Regardless of your intentions at the time, the fact remains that you're a rebel, and you've killed cops and soldiers in the name of your disingenuous beliefs. I'm surprised you haven't turned you back against this so-called god of yours, because he has certainly turned his back on you."

"God will never abandon me. I am his instrument for change. He will never lead me astray. He revealed to me the truth behind your wickedness and the righteousness of my cause. He told me that your unholy ambition is the true aberration of nature, and extreme forces such as yourself should disappear from the face of the earth!" Amakusa orated as he did his best to dodge as many bullets as he could without harming a single thread on his duffel bag.

"God? I tried to kill a god, but he wouldn't die. So I did the next best thing. I humiliated him. Brought him down to my level and exposed him for what he truly is: A sad little man behind the curtain," Akahori disclosed in a moderate volume even as the sounds of consecutive gunfire threatened to drown his baritone voice. Soujiro was the only one who could hear everything that the elder statesman said.

Amakusa bravely stood in the middle of the manor's courtyard as the click-clack of firearms being reloaded chorused with the promise of death, the blood from his injured body spreading across his garments and dyeing them crimson. "If any of you have any common sense at all, then you won't dare fire at me while I hold this sack in my arms."

"Spoken like a true zealot. Now that you've been driven to a corner due to your failure, you've decided to lay your life on the line and finish me off in a blaze of glory," Akahori appraised as he looked down on Amakusa with glinting spectacles and a slight smirk. "The true reason why you've created the Battousai Group was because you wanted your own followers to be the successors of your failed rebellion. Once you're dead, you'll be worshipped as their messiah and savior, won't you?"

Amakusa undid the cords that held his bag together. "You're the last man standing in the way of my people's freedom. There's no need for us to overcomplicate things. It's you and only you whom I want dead. Tell your guards to stand down and let us settle things once and for all."

Akahori chuckled as he turned his back on Amakusa. "Why the hell would I want to do that? Bomb yourself to oblivion for all I care. These policemen will do everything in their power to see you burn in hell anyway." The curtain-bearded man stopped in mid-stride as he saw Soujiro's smile transform into a pale-faced maw of shock and disbelief.

Akahori turned. Right below him, he saw Amakusa cradling the unmoving form of his only daughter, her lifeless eyes staring right into the depths of his tortured soul.

"RIN!"

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **The plans of mice and men.

_What is wrong with this picture? A mass murderer who's suddenly refusing to kill save for just one life? Is that the corpse of Rin Akahori he's carrying? How will the Sanbaka react once they see for themselves the demented twist and turns of this ongoing saga? Stay tuned next time for another installment of Rurouni Yahiko! _

**Wala na akong masabi,_  
_**Abdiel


	16. Chapter 16

Thirty-five minutes after midnight, at the open courtyard right in front of the balcony where Soujiro and Akahori stood, Captain Tomo Kujo and the conscious members of his team joined forces with Tokyo's Captain Mitsuru Ujiki and Kanagawa's Captain Kuniumi Yamada to subdue the slick and elusive assassin.

"All right! Everyone listen up! As that bumbling rube, Nakayama, showed, we should not engage Amakusa using swordplay or even bayonets! You have rifles, so make good use of them! I don't care if we have to use up all our ammunition on him! Use the guns and make sure he remains on the wide-open space of the yard like a sitting duck! As captain of the Tokyo District Police, I order all of you to concentrate your fire on that crazy Christian rebel!"

The first few rounds blazed with cadence and precision; however, the predictability of their trajectory allowed the wily Amakusa to emerge out of the blackened haze of flying debris and cinder barely scuffed. Even though he carried a heavy sack of some sort, the policemen still couldn't hit him as he scurried about like a splinter in the corner of their eyes; a barely perceptible target that remained in their field of vision yet they couldn't even hope to catch.

Particularly, Tokyo's very own Officer Kosaburo Shinichi (who also doubled as a regular student of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu) felt his sweat turn cold as he recognized Amakusa's "God Speed" ability. 'Is he using Mister Kamiya's Shinsoku technique? I must be going crazy!'

The later exchanges crisscrossed with speckles of spittle, blood, sweat, and tears alongside crackling spitfire. In the face of a silent, untouchable phantom that appeared to do as he wished whenever he wished it, the grunts of the Gunma and Kanagawa contingents as well as parts of the remaining Kamiminochi brigade decided as a group to fire off their guns as soon as they were loaded. As a consequence, the impressive-looking exhibition of gunfire... the maw of hell itself erupting with brimstone and smoke... became nothing more than an empty display full of noise and wrath, indicating failure.

The more seasoned officers of the Tokyo district ceased their fire and did their best to keep their rambunctious cohorts from finishing each other off with their recklessness and inexperience. A few of the greenhorns had already fallen thanks to friendly fire while Kanagawa's Captain Yamada shouted to his subordinates amidst the reverberating shots, "Cease your fire when Amakusa's near other officers! Fire only at his baggage! And for Buddha's sake, AIM BEFORE YOU SHOOT!"

Somehow, through either the miracle of chance, a moment of clarity from the flustered police, the intimidating effect of randomly placed shots flying in all directions, the timely interruption of the Tokyo veterans, or the instructions of Captain Yamada to shoot at Amakusa's luggage, a bullet managed to pierce through the side of the cult leader's ribs, which forced him to stop his acrobatic attempts at turning his enemies against each other and hide behind the nearest bullet-ridden tree.

In the background, the pint-sized Captain Kujo of Gunma patted the unassuming Captain Yamada at the back for a job well done. In turn, the Kanagawa captain could only roll his eyes as he beckoned his men... Lieutenant Satoru Sakaguchi among them... to move into a better position to apprehend the wounded terrorist.

"Unless you all want to die, you won't dare fire at this sack in my arms," Amakusa threatened from behind the gathering officers; he'd evaded them again before they could converge on him, managing to land ever closer to his intended prey.

In response, the policemen turned and aimed their rifles at Amakusa's head. However, the redhead appeared mostly unperturbed by the turn of events as he walked ever-so-calmly beneath Akahori's balcony.

"That madman probably has a sack of bombs in his hands! He's going to suicide bomb Akahori-san! Be prepared to fire!" Captain Kujo informed the troubled Captain Yamada while the Togakudan scurried to and fro the mansion in order to get the policemen their much-needed ammunition and medical attention.

Suzuki "Raedo" Nagaoka himself, the leader of the spy group, personally oversaw the loading and setup of both the Gatling gun and the Armstrong cannon while micromanaging his subordinates to keep all four police teams as spread out and safe as possible. "The rapid-fire gun and cannon are ready, Captain Ujiki. Just give us the signal, and we'll riddle Amakusa full of holes."

Ujiki nodded and signaled Raedo to standby as Amakusa stood a mere leapfrog away from Akahori's position. 'Are you bluffing, you insane terrorist? Or are you going to become the martyr you were supposed to be a good six years ago?' the ex-Saitama captain seemed to say with his planned course of action.

The gunshots became more focused and accurate this time around as the police began aiming at Amakusa's bag. At that moment, the dialogue between Amakusa and Akahori continued amidst the flying bullets, with the latter assuring that the motives behind the four Kanto district regiments were consistently more about vengeance than about protecting him from harm.

That nonsense all ended once Amakusa opened the bag, revealing the body of Rin Akahori; Captain Ujiki and several of his compatriots recognized her from their previous encounters with the Akahori clan.

"Holy shit, that son of a bitch really did it. Get that Gatling gun in position and blow his fucking brains off. Use every last bullet we have. He could be rigged with explosives for all I care; he'd crossed the line this time. Get as far away from him as possible and fire. Let him burn with the li'l princess; it's cheaper than a cremation."

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_This isn't a murder mystery. Nevertheless, the title of the chapter is quite appropriate._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 16: Murder at the Mansion**

* * *

Forty minutes past midnight, from above the balcony of Jusanro Tani's former mansion, Soujiro Seta observed the proceedings before him.

Beside Soujiro, Tetsuo Akahori bared his fangs and chortled like a hyena. Shishio's premiere swordsman pictured his present liege's laughter as hyena-like because it contained less mirth and more anticipation of a upcoming feast care of a nearby prey; the laughter was incidental.

"From an untouchable warrior who was considered a god by your followers, you became a repentant murderer who couldn't even bring himself to finish off just one measly police officer. You know deep down in your heart, you owe a debt of sin to each and every one of these people whose loved ones you've killed!" Akahori orated, his spit flying everywhere as he pointed out the limitations of his longtime foe.

The ever-blissful Soujiro reflected on Akahori's words with a quiver of his smiling mouth and a raise of his eyebrow. The long-haired man underneath them with a crucifix-shaped scar on his chest had so far been a curious mixture of contradictions that made him both a fool and a wise man; a holy man and a criminal; or perhaps even a rurouni and a hitokiri.

Was Amakusa a genius walking the thin line between sanity and insanity? Perhaps Soujiro gave him too much credit. All the twenty-something knew was that none of this terrorist's actions actually stemmed from logic, but then again, the former Ten Ken long ago realized that very few men ever based their decisions on common sense and reason. 'So Amakusa-san created the Battousai Group, eh? I think I know which one he is.'

From what Soujiro could see, the divergent biases of the two enemies blinded them both from realizing each other's weaknesses. With Akahori, he underestimated Amakusa's simpleminded, black-and-white goals and resolve to complete them. With Amakusa, he refused to heed Akahori's factual analysis of his past mistakes by holding fast to a belief system full of contradictions and leaps of faith.

"God? I tried to kill God, but he wouldn't die. So I did the next best thing. I humiliated him. Brought him down to my level and exposed him for what he truly is: A sad little man behind the curtain," Akahori said the statement so quietly that Soujiro had to consider whether his employer referred to Amakusa or his own self.

"If any of you have any common sense at all, then you won't dare fire at me while I hold this sack in my arms," Amakusa declared from behind the gathering officers; he'd evaded them again before they could converge on him, managing to land ever closer to his intended victim.

Soujiro's crescent-shaped, smiling mouth shut itself closed as he witnessed Akahori's government-issued army unravel from within, their hearts eaten away by their own imagined doubts before they could even pull the trigger. Even though a lot of them were motivated by vengeance, a sense of justice, and the loss of their compatriots, it didn't necessarily translate to having the skill and the power to make themselves a factor in today's proceedings.

Then again, what they didn't have in talent, they hoped to make up for in moxie, superior numbers, firepower, and boundless determination; that last item particularly reminded Soujiro of a recent opponent he fought three weeks ago. As such, smoke again filled the air as flashes of sparks, bullets, and gunpowder explosions ripped apart the landscape; piece by piece, pebble by pebble, chip by chip.

"Your fanaticism did not disappoint. You've become quite desperate now, so you've decided to sacrifice yourself in order to give meaning to your failed rebellion. How completely pathetic," Akahori evaluated as he stared down at Amakusa with beaming spectacles and a contemptuous sneer. "The real reason why you've founded the Battousai Group was because you wished for your own disciples to become the successors of your disastrous insurgence. You knew that you'll be worshipped as their precious Son of God once you're dead, didn't you?"

Amakusa opened the bag. "Let my people go, Akahori. You are the Pharaoh who refuses to see that no human can go against the will of my Lord, the One True God. You're the only one I want dead; I will not be manipulated again like six years ago. Make your guards stand down now so that we can settle our differences like real men."

Just as Akahori laughed and shot down Amakusa's proposal with impunity, Soujiro espied the contents of the bag... the body bag... with a fast but weak heartbeat, a knotted stomach, moist skin, profuse sweating, and a dying smile. The girl who said nothing but did so much stared back at him with the same slate-gray, glassy stare she'd always aimed at him. The real-life Snow White who fascinated him to no end because of her peculiarities: _their_ peculiarities.

What was he supposed to feel here? Was he supposed to cry? To scream? To gnash his teeth and wail at the heavens for the person that he'd lost? He remembered the irony of Kenshin Himura requesting him to find his own answer after he broke down and rediscovered his emotions, only to find a woman who showed that it was actually his emotions that limited his potential from the get go.

Soujiro didn't know what to feel after seeing Rin Akahori's unmoving form cradled over Amakusa's arms like a mannequin of sorts, so he approximated the response he saw countless of times before in the faces of the people he'd mercilessly slaughtered for Makoto Shishio's and Tetsuo Akahori's respective sakes. He did so in order to communicate to Akahori the gravity of the situation, even though his forced facial contortions felt unnatural on his face regardless.

He had long abandoned his illogical feelings and unreasonable emotions; however, in another stroke of irony, all the logic and reason in the world couldn't reveal to him what he wanted to do now. What was his desire? To exist? To not exist? To feel? To not feel? So he stared. Thought. Waited.

He remembered his pledge to Kyoko Sakaguchi. "Didn't we promise to each other that if I'd continue to search for the person that would make me smile, you, in turn, would continue to search for the person that you could openly cry with?"

An eventual scream that silenced the gunfire and the barking orders of the three conscious captains revealed to Soujiro his next course of action.

"!"

* * *

Earlier at noontime, Rin Akahori's coachman at last caught up with her. As he expected, the pallid, half-blind girl did not stray far.

The supposed Battousai had Akahori's precious daughter cornered, but he still felt peevish over the carriage crash that she indirectly caused. To think, his imported, western-designed Concord... a four-horse specimen of superior workmanship... could break apart just like that. Fortunately, he was able to catch one of the horses and tied it to a nearby tree. His plans for revenge would not be deterred by a mere girl.

All the same, the Battousai's persistent shock over Rin's betrayal was understandable; he could've sworn he'd won over the girl's sympathies during the brief time they were acquainted, her emotionless behavior aside. She acted a lot more recklessly than her demon of a father, but he caught hints of a methodical madness in her actions that definitely reminded him of Tetsuo.

The coachman imposter was almost sure that Rin suspected nothing about him. However, she behaved differently from all the other people he'd deceived throughout the years. Even though she had no idea about his hidden agenda, perhaps she never trusted him from the very start... as to be expected from the porcelain doll of the House of Akahori.

"I won't hurt you," the pony-tailed, redheaded coachman with a tapered chin, lanky build, and scar-riddled body pledged as he moved into Rin's field of vision. The reflected light from the man's strange glass orb made the Akahori daughter wince, but she stood her ground nonetheless. "Come quietly. It'll be over soon," he reassured, remembering his fast-approaching deadline.

"I've heard that line before; too many times, actually," Rin admitted with a slight squint from her haunting, gun-metal eyes and a casual toss of her milky hair. "Hearing that from any other kidnapper, that'd certainly be a lie. From you, not so much; maybe I do believe you. But I still won't come with you without a fight."

"Why?" queried the long-haired man as he sidestepped towards the shadows and cut off one of Rin's options for escape, the sunlight helping him block the other path. The strange girl suffered from a rare condition that the man had heard of during his travels in China and Europe but never witnessed for himself... the sheet-white complexion and wandering eyes served as dead giveaways, but the aversion to sunlight confirmed his suspicions.

Barely a decibel above a whisper, the young woman's wispy voice belied the sharpness of the words it delivered. "Because I've gone through far more worse than anything you can come up with. Have you ever been forced to carry a dead, rotting version of yourself all your life even though she's better left alone?"

The coachman stepped back at the strange answer, unsure of how to reply.

The girl's pupils shook in place yet again before she responded in a way that she deemed more appropriate to the matter at hand. "More importantly, I've figured out who you are. I was afraid you were one of the other Battousai pretenders when you first attempted to lure me out of Aomori, but it's good to know that it's actually you, Amakusa Shogo-san, who bothered to kidnap me. As the leader of your group, your dedication to your cause is quite commendable."

"How did you...?" Amakusa almost sputtered, unnerved for the second time, but stopped himself cold as his target interrupted him.

"My father told me everything. He considers you one of his finest victories and greatest defeats at the same time. You've left quite an impression on him." The girl... more dollish than human... focused her nigh-sightless eyes the best that she could at Amakusa and divulged, "He suspected one of two things about you after you reemerged using the Battousai's alias: One, you've become an unrepentant assassin; two, you've become a repentant vagabond. Up until now, I couldn't tell which one you are."

"You're just as surprising as your father; even he could barely keep up with you and your shenanigans, I'm guessing," Amakusa surmised with an outstretched hand and an easygoing smile. "Shall we go meet with him soon?"

"Which Battousai are you? I heard you had different kinds," Rin persisted, not moving an inch from where she stood. "Are you the offensive expert? The counter striker? I'm guessing you're the one who knows Himura Battousai's style the best."

"You don't need to know about that at this point, but I'm sure your father has the very same questions nonetheless. In any case, rest assured that he's about to find out which Battousai I am later on tonight," Amakusa stated the words with the same even-tempered tone, but his unflinching gaze told another story.

Unfazed by Amakusa's effort at maintaining his paper-thin disguise, Rin remarked, "Tell me, Mister Battousai; how far are you willing to go to kill my father?"

Again, Amakusa had to pause for a second in reflection. "That's a rather blunt question to ask the person who's about to assassinate your only surviving parent." He took hold of Rin's shoulder, his mind already focused on getting to the dilapidated house that served as his rendezvous point with his cohort, when she grasped his palm and put a finger inside the hole in the middle of it. He let go of her just as fast as she took hold of him, his hand trembling as though electrocuted.

"If you won't answer that question, then answer these. Why did you slaughter those former bakufu politicians who'd come into power in the Meiji Government? Even though they were responsible for the deaths of many Christians, didn't that just make life for you and your followers worse? It certainly didn't win you any votes of popularity from the new government." She slipped her hands behind her and peered at her chauffer closely.

"The Meiji hanbatsu isn't the bakufu, yet you intentionally incited their wrath. To think, had you acted rationally, there would have been a chance for the new government to accept the Christians and stop the widespread persecution that the bakufu started. But now you're attempting to murder yet another Ishin Shishi politician. These are not the actions of a so-called savior; these are the actions of a mad terrorist despot. Just admit that you've made a mistake, and there's no turning back for..."

Amakusa didn't even realize that he'd slapped the pallid girl with a swift backhand, his reflexes doing for him what his mind wouldn't even dare contemplate. "I don't know what lies and oversimplifications your father force-fed you, but the Rikken Kaishinto's own Okuma Shigenobu was the one who insisted on continuing the persecutions of the Nagasaki Christians! I don't care if it's the bakufu or hanbatsu that stands before my people's freedom to practice their beliefs; they're all the same to me. I will protect my people even at the point of destroying the new government."

In any event, Rin resumed her "interrogation" of Amakusa only after a brief reprieve to wipe her bleeding mouth. "Are you telling the truth or are you lying to yourself? Your anger just now proves how emotional you can get when it comes to these matters. Perhaps your past actions were driven by a shortsighted yearning for revenge against former bakufu officials. Besides, isn't Christianity supposed to be a peace-loving, tolerant religion? Shouldn't you throw bread whenever stones are cast upon you? These terrorist acts of yours don't make any bit of sense."

Oblivious to his rage, Amakusa raised his hand to strike once more, but then regained his senses soon after; nothing could be more unforgivable than striking a defenseless and reclusive girl whose father showed her untruths and a one-sided view of the world all her life. Magdalia, his sister, would've had a fit to see him bullying this young woman. Then again, he shouldn't be kidnapping Rin _at all_, but he figured that doing so would cause the lesser of two evils to happen.

The false Battousai again offered his hand with the strange hole in the middle to Rin. "I'm sorry I hit you, Ojousama. However, I don't have to justify myself to you or anyone else. You don't know any better. Stand down and let me pass judgment on your father's sins. It'll be over soon."

"You haven't answered my first question," Rin informed after she was helped up by Amakusa.

The tall man merely smirked and snorted. "Which one was that? It seemed like you've asked me a million questions already."

Instead of replying, the young girl turned towards the supposed Battousai and drew a small tanto blade from beneath the folds of her kimono.

Amakusa rolled his eyes. "Spare me, Ojousama. Put away that toy knife. You..."

"How far are you willing to go to kill my father? Because nothing short of bringing forth apocalypse would stop him." Rin had no intention of fighting off the doppelganger Battousai. Instead, she decided to aim the blade at her throat to stab it. In shock and panic, Amakusa had no choice but to act fast to halt the Akahori maiden's sudden attempt at her own life.

A bright flash of light flared into existence; a minute later, the girl collapsed forward, her silver eyes glassy and sightless as her knife slipped her grasp.

The sudden blaze reminded Rin of the sickening, unfeeling, unreachable, untouchable, unperceivable, arrogant, higher-than-thou sun that would sooner burn her eyes and skin to a leathery crisp than allow her to look at its supposed majesty. At that moment, it was as though she were at the mercy of the same callous, hideous, and self-important orange star because she felt like she had just been scorched alive by the heat of the surface of the sun itself.

This time around, Amakusa caught the girl before she could fall to the ground for a second time. He felt her excited heartbeat slow down to a steady crawl. Her breathing also became shallower.

"How... the mighty has fallen," Rin still managed to whisper despite the sudden turn of events.

"What are you talking about, you silly little girl? I..." Amakusa shot back in spite of himself.

"Y-You used... a special t-technique of yours on me when all you needed to do was... take me by force. Just like... in Shimabara where y-you killed... a thousand men, you've... lost control of the situation and... overcompensated for it. My father was right... all along. You... can't win against him if you're... like this."

"We'll see. I work under one supreme truth. Proverbs three, verses five to six states: 'Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight.' While I still have my faith, nothing can stand in my quest to liberate my people from the cancer of today's society. We will not be treated as cultists or second-class citizens at the mercy of an intolerant, uncaring, and xenophobic nation. We Christians have the right to live as human beings in God's green earth, and I will fight for those rights by any means necessary."

"A-Anyone who c-cannot s-speak using his... o-own words can't possibly b-be trusted... to think f-for himself. W-What... kind of a z-zealot terrorist... are you?" she queried before losing consciousness altogether, her eyelids closing as her body went limp.

"The kind who has seen the truth," Amakusa responded only after his victim had already stopped speaking; it was the one question of hers that he bothered to answer directly.

'Unbelievable. Even Akahori's own daughter is a handful to deal with,' the rose-haired Battousai surmised as he sheathed his sword, dusted off the bits of glass on his shoulder, and carried the unconscious Rin in a more proper manner. He needed the girl for his plans to succeed, but because of her stubbornness, his schemes had been compromised regardless.

'I will not fall for any of your traps or tricks ever again, Akahori. The Meiji Government's reckoning is now at hand.'

* * *

An ear-gauging howl wracked with unknowable grief shrieked the name of the motionless girl Amakusa held in his arms. "AMAKUSA! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL FINISH THE JOB THAT I STARTED SIX YEARS AGO! I SWEAR UPON THE GRAVE OF MY DAUGHTER THAT I'LL MURDER YOU AND SODOMIZE YOUR CORPSE FOR GOOD MEASURE! DAMN YOU AND YOUR INVISIBLE FRIEND OF A GOD! DAMN YOU AND YOUR CULT OF ZEALOTS AND HYPOCRITES! DAMN YOU AS YOU EJACULATE SPEECHES ABOUT LOVE AND MERCY WHILE WAGING WAR ON ANYONE WHO DARES NOT LOVE OR SHOW MERCY IN ACCORDANCE TO YOUR PETTY TERMS!"

Unfazed by the unhinged and distraught father before him, Amakusa orated, "Calm down. I understand your grief. According to Ecclesiastes three, verses one to eight: 'To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted...'"

Akahori roared, tore apart his hair, and clawed at the railings of the veranda as his eyes bulged from their sockets and tiny veins popped up around his burgundy face. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND YOUR MORONIC, SHEEP-LIKE INANITY AS YOU PRATTLE BIBLE VERSES TO JUSTIFY YOUR PREJUDICES EVEN THOUGH YOU CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO COMPREHEND THEM ON YOUR OWN WITHOUT SOMEBODY ELSE TELLING YOU WHAT THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO MEAN! I HATE HOW YOU CAN'T, FOR THE LIFE OF YOU, THINK FOR YOURSELF FOR EVEN ONE SECOND! IF YOU AREN'T WILLING TO FACE DEATH LIKE A REAL MAN, THEN KEEP YOUR IGNORAMUS COPING MECHANISM OF HIDING BEHIND THE LIE OF ETERNAL EXISTENCE TO YOURSELF EVEN AFTER I'VE LONG CEASED TO EXIST!" Soujiro had to catch the frothing politician by the coattails of his suit to keep him from falling.

Deafened by the ensuing silence, Akahori shook his fists at his dumbfounded personal police force and spelled out his orders to them in plain language. "OPEN FIRE! KILL HIM! LET HIM HAVE IT! WHOEVER SHOOTS HIM DEAD FIRST WILL GET THE ALL THE REWARD MONEY! I DON'T GIVE A DAMN IF YOU HAVE TO SHOOT AT ME OR THROUGH ME TO GET TO HIM! BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE BALLS TO DO IT, THEN I WILL!" he cried, his fingernails digging into the wood until several splinters pierced into the soft flesh underneath the cuticle. Mist rose from his grunting breath while he shook and tensed his muscles. "Please... kill him."

The wrinkled, gasping, and trembling forty-seven-year-old man looked every bit his age as he clung for dear life on his bodyguard's kimono. "Akahori-san," Soujiro mouthed with a blank expression on his face as it paled to nearly Rin's marble complexion.

"Kill me and she dies," Amakusa announced a fraction of a second before the majority of the guns' triggers were pulled. He subsequently blurred into motion to evade the first few shots from the nearest of the police officers before chaos and noise echoed across the enclosure while the members of the different contingents struggled against the turmoil of conflicting orders.

"Cease fire! Tokyo, Gunma, Kanagawa, and Kamiminochi Contingents! Damn it, put your guns down. The girl is still alive," Captain Kujo wheezed and rasped to his men, the other squadrons, and to the skeptical Captain Ujiki who still had his gun trailed at the dizzying form of Shogo Amakusa.

"Let me go, Kujo. I'm not about to believe the bluff of some cuckoo cult terrorist," Ujiki insisted as he gestured Raedo to prepare firing the Gatling gun and the rest of the Togakudan to start distributing extra ammo to the remaining officers.

"But Ujiki...!" Captain Kujo protested before both Gunma and Tokyo captains heard Captain Yamada exclaim, "S-She's moving. Don't shoot. Rin-ojousama is alive!"

Both Soujiro and Akahori exhaled and relaxed from their guarded stances, with Tetsuo even collapsing into a fetal heap on rubbery legs while crying and laughing at the same time, his larynx ragged and his nostrils flaring with a stinging sensation one usually had after a choking fit.

Amidst the growing buzz of conversation from the fifty-something-strong defense force plus spy troops, the local Kamiminochi contingent's out-of-commission members began to rouse from their unconsciousness, particularly Captain Haruo Nakayama.

"Hey, you! Togakudan!" the Shinshushin captain called out to a snub-nosed, jowl-faced spy wearing the same uniform as Minoe. "Get me a Murata rifle and a saber. Better yet, give me a katana and a bottle of sake. I want to rejoin the fight!"

Amakusa twirled and shoved the slowly recovering but still paralyzed Rin in full view of all the law enforcement officers before turning his attention back towards the broken-down Akahori while keeping an eye on the policemen nearest to him. "That's right. If you want to see your daughter alive and well, then tell your men to stand down before surrendering yourself to me. I've seen enough bloodshed in Shimabara to last me a lifetime; perhaps even longer than that."

Akahori scrambled to his feet after hearing Amakusa's conditions, his eyes and nose welling up with unbecoming streams of tears and mucus. "D-Did you hear that, Seta-kun? W-We can save Rin! Isn't that wonderful? Amakusa-kun wants my life in exchange for hers! Let's do it! Amakusa Shogo-kun, you have a deal! I will exchange my life for my daughter's safety! Put your weapons down, Kanto police! Togakudan, stop assisting these police officers! Let my daughter go!" The premier member of the Daijokan swayed back and forth with a wide grin on his dirty, haggard face while whispering the names "Sakura" and "Rin" from time to time.

Shogo couldn't believe his ears. The Christian rebel couldn't help but chuckle at how pathetic his most difficult and dangerous adversary had become in the face of having his very own daughter kidnapped. The rumors were true.

'Now you know how I felt when you went against your word and our peace treaty by using the forces of the National Metropolitan Police and the Imperial Army against us right under our noses. Magdalia, our dream of a religious revolution in Japan is about to happen. Please pray for me with mother, father, and the children you so love in heaven.'

"Did all of you hear that? I only intend to kill one man tonight. Get out of my way. Don't try my patience, or you will certainly be meeting the lost loved ones you hold so dear immediately," Shogo pledged as he gripped Rin tight with his expectant hands and gulped down the growing tenseness in his throat. He was close. He was almost there.

Soujiro did his best to identify any hints of "sarcasm"... a phenomenon that Rin explained to him at length just a few years back... from Akahori's absurd words. Although he concluded that the bearded father's reasoning behind his relief to be outrageous in the context of his normal behavior, the bastard child of the Seta clan couldn't shake off the genuineness of the sentiment care of the audio-visual cues of Tetsuo's ever-growing nervous breakdown. "Please calm down, Akahori-san. There has to be a way to rescue Rin-san without risking your...!"

To the shock of everyone staring at the veranda from below, Akahori stood up and punched the half-smiling yet concerned Soujiro with a gloved hand. "ARE YOU ASKING ME TO RISK MY DAUGHTER'S LIFE BY COWARDLY SAVING MINE AND DENYING THAT TERRORIST WHAT HE WANTS? DO YOU WANT HER TO DIE? TO BECOME WORM FOOD LIKE HER MOTHER BEFORE HER? THEN FUCK YOU! I'D KILL YOU FIRST BEFORE LETTING HER DIE! DON'T THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU KILLED OKUBO THAT I'M AFRAID OF YOU, YOU WORTHLESS, INSIGNIFICANT PIECE OF TRASH!"

With that, the deranged Akahori repeatedly stomped on the prone form of his guardian... the right-hand man of Makoto Shishio and the strongest member of the Juppon Gatana... with his shoed feet. Despite acquiring a stronger constitution and pain tolerance than he had when he was merely six, the familiar memories of being beat down and abused came back to haunt Soujiro, compelling him to grab hold of his head and curl up into a ball.

The night held its breath. Nobody within that compound dared make a sound as continuous thuds and grunts reverberated from Tetsuo's panic attack.

Just then, a thought occurred to Amakusa; a crazy, illogical notion that would probably make perfect sense to the shadow of the brilliant man that was once Tetsuo Akahori. "I have a better idea, Akahori. Kill yourself. Jump down from that balcony or have one of your men shoot you. I don't care how. Just leave this world once and for all, you insane monster."

The sound of stomping feet stopped. Akahori whirled his head towards the awaiting Amakusa below. With wide, feral eyes, they stared at each other and then nodded in cadence. Afterwards, Tetsuo clambered up the banister and spread out his arms...

* * *

Yahiko, Gan, and Minoe arrived amidst a mob of scuttling policemen and Togakudan as the clock struck past twelve. They were just in time to witness Soujiro intercept one of the multiple phantoms of Amakusa's afterimages and steal away the outwardly life-sized porcelain doll that was Tetsuo Akahori's daughter.

What they failed to see was Soujiro jumping up on sandaled feet, grabbing hold of the unbalanced and maddened Akahori by his collar, and flinging him back into the room with one move as he sprinted down the facade of the mansion using the walls as his floor in one-fourth of a second. Then, even though Amakusa proved fast enough to notice that the ex-Ten Sword had made his move, the zealot's "God Speed" was one-fourth of a second too slow to go against Seta's "Reduced Earth" technique.

"What the hell just happened?" Yahiko unwittingly deduced the general sentiment of everyone who had just witnessed the unbelievable feat that Okubo's assassin showcased. The spiky-haired young lad saw a blur go past the open gates of the mansion before blinking and seeing the same blur exit the property twice. He rubbed his eyes. 'Psycho-Kid is so fast, he could get out of an area twice? Jeez, is there nothing he _can't_ do?"

After everyone regained their senses... including, thankfully, Akahori himself... Captain Ujiki ordered, "Raedo, fire the Gatling gun at Amakusa NOW!" while signaling his men and the other squadrons to keep the flatfooted and empty-handed terrorist busy with their own single-shot custom rifles.

Amakusa hissed as he got blasted about five times... once by one of the rifles, four times by the Gatling gun... before dodging the rest of the bullets and other high-velocity projectiles that shredded through the landscape. He bent down backwards and slashed through the ground with otherworldly force, which created an mind-boggling landslide that blocked the Gatling gun's hail of fire and buried it under a humongous mound of dirt and debris. As for Raedo and his assistants, they were knocked back about ten feet away from the shockwave of the manmade avalanche.

However, the Tokyo police had long anticipated this action, remembering that Amakusa managed to assassinate quite a few ex-bakufu politicians even with the use of the infamous forerunner to the twentieth-century's machinegun. Therefore, right at the blindside of the distracted Christian leader, several highly skilled members of the Togakudan opened fire at the unsuspecting redhead using the screw-breech mechanisms of the Armstrong cannon; it took a long while to setup and required labor-intensive monitoring, but this particular weapon's firepower was well worth the effort.

"Checkmate," Akahori whispered from his vantage point on the balcony floor of his mansion as his army of police groups from four different Kanto districts converged on the smoldering crater where Amakusa once stood. As the inhabitants of the Aizu Castle found out during the Boshin War, this variant of the rifled breach loader did its job of obliterating its target frighteningly well.

"Eh. Looks like the problem solved itself," Gan quipped from behind Yahiko while checking out the insane amount of property damage inflicted by the Togakudan's Gatling gun and Armstrong cannon. "They went through all this trouble to get one man? Jeez, so much for the so-called One-Man Army of Nagasaki, huh?"

Pointedly ignoring the Gangster Gan's (sadly accurate) assessment of the present situation, Yahiko scanned the stampeding crowd of cops and spies for a familiar face; much to Officer Kosaburo's chagrin, the sixteen-year-old Tokyoite found just what he was looking for. "Kosaburo! Come here for a second and tell me what the hell is going on!" Yahiko demanded as he pulled the twenty-five-year-old police officer aside.

"Yahiko-kun? Oh, come on! I'm in the middle of apprehending one of Japan's most dangerous rebels! Can we talk about this later? Besides, you really should start calling me Kosaburo-sempai or at least Kosaburo-san because of our age difference!" One cantankerous glare from the previous holder of the title "Strongest Ten Year Old in Japan" was all it took for Officer Kosaburo to slump his shoulders and cave in to his kendo master's demands.

"Okay, the gist of it is that Amakusa tried to use Akahori-san's daughter, Rin-ojousama, as bait for Akahori-san to give himself up, but that super bodyguard of his was able to steal away the girl and let us police and our superior firepower handle the rest of the mission. It was longer and more involved than that, but those are the important details."

Kosaburo looked up and stared into the night sky with sparkling eyes and a fist balled up in hot-blooded pride and satisfaction. "Many of my sempai who joined this crew had friends and relatives who died back in Nagasaki. I'm happy to see that they've finally gotten their closure this time around, and I'm even happier to know that I somehow had a part in bringing down that insurgent."

Yahiko blinked before sighing; just what kind of sigh he let out, he wasn't quite sure. "Congratulations on a job well done, Kosaburo-sempai. You should go ahead and join your fellow officers. With policemen like you, who needs samurai in this day and age?"

The sea-urchin-haired young man smiled as he bid his student adieu for the time being; at the very least, this new case involving fake Battousai doppelgangers didn't end up with a mountain of policeman casualties or the involvement of a Juppon-Gatana-level threat that even an army of officers couldn't handle.

'Looks like Gan was right; Amakusa ended up being all bark and no bite. If the police are enough to handle him, then his Battousai Group isn't something I should even be concerned about.'

"Over there! Amakusa is over there!" the heavyset, pinkish-white, and small-eyed sergeant of the Gunma District Police informed his diminutive superior and the rest of the company the current whereabouts of their religious assassin quarry after following a long trail of blood.

The short of breath, ghostly white, and cringing Shogo cowered a couple of yards away from the impact crater where the cannon tore through him, one of his legs frayed and bleeding after he attempted to get away from the weapon's explosive shell. Were he not fleet-footed enough, his left leg would've had a bigger chunk of its flesh missing and his right leg would've had its shin smashed to little bits; or worse, he could've lost both legs because of the ensuing explosion right underneath him.

"Captain, he's hurt. He's bleeding from his leg," a Johnny-come-lately in his late twenties that looked more like he was in his late fifties pointed out the obvious to the Tokyo Captain. "He can't run away now!"

Captain Ujiki nodded to both his lieutenant... a scowling, six-foot-three slab of beefcake with a disproportionately large, pimple-covered head... and his sergeant... an androgynous-looking man sporting a self-satisfied smirk... to lead the Tokyo District Police charge and then proclaimed to the leaders of the three remaining troops:

"Everybody, surround Amakusa! Kujo, you and your men flank him to his left; he can't move there because his left leg is injured. Yamada, have your Kanagawa troops corral him to his right. Don't let him get away. Nakayama and company, attack him from the rear. Show him no mercy, or at least show him as much mercy as the people he killed all those years ago! NOW MOVE OUT!"

"That cross worshipper's head is MINE! I'll put it on a pike or hollow it out and use it as a wind chime! It'll serve as a great example of the only kind of Christian that I consider good and useful!" Nakayama beamed as he brandished and unsheathed the katana that the Togakudan somehow armed him with. "The ghosts of Ryuzoji and Hiramatsu will be so envious of me! I'll be the one who conquers the villain that they couldn't even touch!"

Kosaburo continued firing and reloading his Murata rifle as he covered his more battle-experienced officers. In the middle of bedlam, the relatively young man saw Sergeant Sakaguchi of the Kanagawa contingent... Yahiko's newfound police acquaintance in this town... make eye contact with him. The Kamiya Kasshin Ryu student nodded in understanding; for his younger kendo master's sake, Amakusa should be finished off then and there.

More shots pelted the ground where Amakusa ran, his attempts at escape making him feverish and lightheaded. Geysers of rubble, pebbles, and bullets riddled the landscape like a hundred Shukuchi-using Soujiros attacking all at the same time. Even though he hated to admit it, because of all the punishment he experienced back in Shimabara, he wasn't as fast as he used to be; however, he held back enough to allow the former Ten Ken leeway. He now knew the limits of Soujiro Seta's legendary quickness.

"I've gone through... worse things. Saint Ignatius of Loyola himself had survived a cannon shot worse than this. This is nothing. With the grace and power of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I will not fall. I will not fail. I am not weak of faith. God's will shall prevail; I put my trust to a far superior force."

He heard the distant, squelching echoes of a hammer knocking nails into flesh, bone, and wood in his mind. His five puncture wounds... six-year-old ones not caused by bullets... and numerous scar tissue... six-year-old ones not caused by swords... flared anew. The crucifix-shaped mark on his chest, in particular, throbbed and burned with a fire far more consuming than the fresh blaze he felt on his left shin.

"The Lord is a jealous and avenging God; the Lord takes vengeance and is filled with wrath. The Lord takes vengeance on his foes and maintains his wrath against his enemies."

Blood and water flowed out of Amakusa's open wounds as he felt his head radiate with a halo of immaculate warmth. The wounds from his hands, feet, and side... his "forced" stigmata, so to speak... throbbed and pulsated with indescribable vigor. Inside him, his tired muscles deployed an enhanced fermentation rate that rejuvenated his exhausted frame and reenergized his dulled nerves. Moreover, the neurotransmitters in his brain signaled his body to dilate his air passages, liberate the stored nutrients in his glucose, contract his blood vessels, and increase his heart rate.

"The Lord is slow to anger and great in power; the Lord will not leave the guilty unpunished. His way is in the whirlwind and the storm, and clouds are the dust of his feet."

The sympathetic nervous system of the hyperaroused Amakusa worked overtime in order to let him subconsciously choose then and there how he would react at that desperate time of great need: Retreat and fight for another day, recoil inside his shell and hide until the threats to his life left, or go forth and let his righteous indignation ride across gale winds as his ravaging warpath obliterated everything before him. His muscle memory and actual recollections made his decision for him.

Amakusa shuddered as his vision narrowed into a single frame. He turned around, his eyebrows shooting up as he recognized the familiar visage of the squat and plump policeman who dared attack him earlier on, proclaiming vengeance, decapitations, and future glory.

The raucous assortment of noises, sounds, and resonances went mute then and there. The entirety of his focus was on the sword-wielding maniac... _sinner_... whose warmongering didn't even seem remotely connected to any of his previous claims of justice and morality.

"Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell," Amakusa whispered to the gurgling Nakayama after he jumped up and fed him thirty inches of sheathed steel. Judging from the gasps and nervous shuffling of the cops around him, he surmised that he regained the use of his hearing.

Otherwise, the night remained as quiet and subdued as before. A few seconds later, Nakayama burbled his last, which obliged Shogo to pull his bloodied weapon and pray for the lost and confused soul of the fat, deluded heathen.

In contrast to before, the members of the four Kanto police squadrons acted a lot more "politely" around Shogo Amakusa. For one thing, they didn't even bother shooting the general space that he occupied. They also let him finish his prayer for their deceased comrade. "...God of the living and the dead, may those who faithfully believed in you on earth praise you forever in the joy of heaven. We ask this through Christ our Lord..."

As soon as Amakusa uttered his prayer's obligatory "Amen," the unstoppable and violent fury of his unbendable faith commenced once more.

* * *

_A few nights before the sixth of November, at the communal dining room of the Shinshushin Mansion where the Kamiminochi District officers stayed in isolation from the rest of the police troops... _

"The White Peril ish upon ush, and it wash only becush Japan isholated itshelf from d' rest of the world that we shurvived mosh of der barbaric influensh! They demonize mosht any country that challenged der might. If anything, these Kirishitan sheep are nothing more than a represhentashun of the evilsh of western civilizayshun. These imperialshit pigsh and crosh worshippursh have caushed all shorts of trubble around the globe in their kwesht for 'Manifesht Deshteeny' or whatever short of bullshit these arrogant shuns of beetchesh believe."

The red-faced, zeppelin-shaped Haruo Nakayama slurred several of his words, but for the most part, he left his intended message intact. Whether or not his message was produced by his drunken stupor or his nationalistic pride depended upon the judgment of the listener.

Okami Yamazaki, the Kamiminochi Captain's lieutenant, rolled his perfectly spherical irises as they glistened in the lamplight with the sheen of liquid gold. His flawlessly symmetrical face gave his rambling superior a flat, critical look in such a way that the shadows mingled in yin-yang balance with the amber luminescence.

"Captain Nakayama, you're wasted beyond belief. Again. Also, what you're saying has nothing to do with the terrorist we're trying to apprehend. Use your common sense more." Yamazaki afterwards berated himself for trying to reason with a xenophobic drunkard.

In response, Nakayama turned his back on Yamazaki, faced the swaying and giggling Sergeant Isao Askikiga, and let rip a fluttering, odiferous, and chair-blasting fart that made the prim-and-proper Yamazaki gag so hard his coiffed pompadour hairstyle became more disheveled than normal.

The rest of the gathered Kamiminochi police officers burst in uproarious applause and guffaws at the Captain's boorish display of power, especially after Nakayama exacerbated the act further by doing a wetter and more protracted follow-up to his earlier anal trumpeting.

"Anyway, the Kirishitan religion ish nothing but another meansh to an end for these imperyalishes, as evidenshed by the colawnyul shubjugation of many countreesh ushing the guysh of convershun, which includesh shome of our neighborsh here in Asia."

Nakayama took another swig of his cup of rice wine. "Relijun of peesh, my ash! We should've shtrung Franshish Ekshavier up a tree ash shoon ash he got here, sheeing the trubble that hish propagandisht relijun hash caushed ush! And the shad part about all thish ish that our very own Japaneesh brethren have been brainwashed by theesh white man'sh liesh, so now we're forshed to ekshecute our own for the shake of cleanshing ourshelvesh from foreigner filth!"

Askikiga nodded sagely as he clinked his cup over his captain's in a show of approval. "Hear, hear! I heartily support the downfall of these white imperialists and their unequal treaties because of their Western double standards. Without a doubt, these hypocrites don't honor in practice the lofty ideals they force onto others, which can also be seen in their fractured religions."

He drunk his sake and slammed the cup on the table while exhaling in alcoholic satisfaction. "I, for one, don't want to see Japan turn into the pet shih tzu of these white imperialists. They dare called all Asians the Yellow Peril when they're the ones who should be labeled as the White Peril."

"Very good, Sharge! Unlike _other_ people around here, you actually get it. It doeshn't take a blind man to notish that it'sh the weshterner'sh modush operandi to conquer a nashun they view ash weaker than themshelvesh and then give them shitty contractsh later on." Nakayama slung his arm over Askikiga and patted his sergeant while the rest of the troop nodded and buzzed in agreement.

"It'sh the way they've conducted bushinesh for probably shentureesh-on-end, and they're not shtopping anytime shoon. I'll betcha anything that the only reashon they'll ever care about Japan ish when they view ush ash a credible threat to their influensh. Ashide from that, they couldn't give two shitsh about ush."

"You know what? I don't disagree with what you and Sarge are saying. However, allow me to play red oni to your blue oni and say that we aren't exactly faultless." _That _silenced the friendly chatter of the rest of the Kamiminochi troop. Yamazaki then raised his hands in surrender to the disapproving stillness surrounding him.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **The unending crusade.

_There you go, dear readers! Credit is due to the Bible for all the biblical quotes Amakusa says. I know a few people that loved doing that, so I figured, "Why not?" and made Amakusa do that too._

**Nasaan ang panginoon mo ngayon?_  
_**Abdiel


	17. Chapter 17

_A couple of nights before November the sixth, at the common dining room of the Shinshushin Manor where the Kamiminochi police troopers drank in seclusion from the rest of the Kanto district squads... _

"Don't get me wrong. Amakusa's fanatical followers truly are extremists to the core. His attempt at portraying himself as the reincarnation of a historical rebel in order to justify his assassinations of top-ranking ex-bakufu officials is also sickening. He's garbage that should be dealt with as quickly as humanly possible."

The massively built Kamiminochi Captain Haruo Nakayama crossed his arms. "Sho what'sh your point, lieutenant?"

"My _point_ is that the Modern Shimabara War went both ways! We may be part of the police force, but that doesn't necessarily mean that we'll simply eat whatever tripe our self-serving government feeds us!" The alabaster-skinned Lieutenant Okami Yamazaki felt his ears and face warm up like wax from a halfway-spent candle, which he inwardly dismissed as mere tipsiness.

"It doesn't excuse the fact that we've been downright abusing our own citizens just because they happened to believe in a different faith from ours. Nor does it excuse Akahori from going overboard by calling in an entire _army_ just to apprehend a peace-loving town full of hardworking folk leading double-lives as Christians. He claimed them _all_ to be insurgents, Captain! I'm fairly sure some of them weren't even Christians, yet we bombed and massacred those villagers too!"

"You had this realization _just now_, lieutenant? Surely, you must have heard the reports of the cleanup crew at Nagasaki picking out bullets from bodies in order to cover up the one-sided nature of our assault." Officer Oimikado delicately put down his half-consumed cup of wine, licked his lips, and batted his eyelashes at the flushed-looking Yamazaki.

"We had killed an incredible number of innocent people in Shimabara, but the government never did pony up any evidence of their wrongdoing or their connection with Amakusa. This information is just as hard to verify as the rumors of Amakusa's murderous rampage against a thousand soldiers and police, but both these stories are still out there nonetheless."

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_Just wanted to take note that the religious and political discussions here are mere flavor text to a straightforward plot. _

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 17: Monster at the Mansion **

* * *

In the East Valley of Shinshushin, Soujiro Seta ran. Sprinted. Flew. His thoughts remained jumbled as he went through the familiar motions of his daily sprint to and fro the villages of Shinshu to maintain his stamina; his mind raced alongside his feet while innumerable concepts formed inside the former. Tetsuo Akahori. Shogo Amakusa. The police. Yahiko Myojin and his merry men. Rin. The Fake Battousai Group. Keisuke. The Fake Battousai. Kyoko Sakaguchi. The Real Battousai Group. Satoru Sakaguchi.

By themselves, they represented a jumble of words that only made sense to Soujiro alone or any of the people involved in the Modern Shimabara War's sixth anniversary. Strangely enough, they also summarized the entire proceeding quite well (in the twenty-something youth's opinion, at the very least).

The ground exploded below him as he tore through the landscape. The rising dust scattered in all directions, but he himself remained untouchable. The velocities he achieved, he imagined only the freest and wildest of horses could envision. Any faster, and he'd be a bird flying the heavens of infinite blue that attempted to test the very limitations of its abilities. The god-given gift Makoto Shishio helped him develop had paid dividends for him up to this day, the circumstances behind their eventful meeting be damned.

"Only the strong shall reign, and the weak must serve as food for the strong in order to best follow the natural laws of this world." Although paraphrased, the very essence of Shishio's motto was pumped right into Soujiro's nerves, the network of thin tubes knotting together and constricting into a pulsating mass of instinct and desire every time even a _hint_ of the topic "Might is right" was within his earshot or field of vision. Every. Single. Time.

For a whole decade, that'd been Soujiro's sole truth. His words to live and die by... or words others died for and he lived by. It was so ingrained into his system, it actually, _physically_ hurt him deep down inside whenever the topic was broached.

It took a battle against a powerful yet righteous man so much like him to make him understand just why that one belief pained him so. He had turned off his heart... or his soul; in the Japanese language, there was no distinction between either meaning... to follow Shishio's truth to the letter, only to realize later on that it wasn't his truth.

Himura Battousai even added salt to Soujiro's gaping wound by declaring that he didn't have the ultimate answer either. As such, the most powerful of Shishio's Ten Swords was forced to travel Japan to discover what was his own truth.

Anyhow, Soujiro had a silver-eyed, dairy-haired, and pale-skinned nymph in tow; one that he had to awaken with true love, like a prince in those foreign horror stories about fairies and supernatural beings she regularly read to him. His smile grew wider. What a simplistic thought; like a child's dream.

The fleet-footed man laughed; had he painted a more ridiculous picture in his mind, he would've included mizuchi, gaki, kappa, tengu, oni, oni-baba, baku, goryo, tanuki, umibozu, futakuchi-onna, yuki-onna, and so on in his make-believe world of chivalric nonsense.

Had Soujiro met Rin in different circumstances... for example, had he still remained an abused bastard that was raised by a bunch of spoiled, social-climbing, nouveau-riche rubes... he would've identified Rin as a "snow lady" regardless; his Snow White.

He grasped the person he held in his arms tightly, remembering how Amakusa flung the bag that carried her earlier on like it contained pieces of laundry; he lacked any regard to her whatsoever even as he faced gunfire and cannon blasts while holding the Porcelain Doll of the House of Akahori.

Speaking of Akahori, even Soujiro had to admit that he didn't see that mental collapse coming, especially since it was the Hokkaido Oyakata himself who just attempted to stomp him until he became okonomiyaki batter.

Was it all part of Akahori's convoluted plans? Or did he genuinely go crazy at the mere thought of his daughter's life in jeopardy? It could be either, both, or neither when it came to the Oyakata's machinations.

The ex-Ten Ken seriously doubted that "Beating the one man who can save your daughter's life to a pulp because he suggested that doing exactly what the kidnapper wants is a bad choice," was part of Akahori's schemes. For good or for ill, Akahori really did do unexpected things at times.

Honestly, Soujiro never expected the events that transpired a couple of minutes ago to come to pass. Granted, it was something he had to regularly deal with as the bastard child of a two-timing father and a mistress mother who couldn't care less about him. His stepfamily had their way with him more often than not, but that abuse was in the context of familial contempt.

Soujiro never would've imagined Akahori to break down at that critical juncture of his impending assassination. Say what you will of Makoto Shishio, but at least he didn't beat you to a pulp once you've _proven_ your worth to him. "Evil" mastermind that he was, he respected strength, power, and might in all shapes and forms.

He recalled the constant abuse his foster family handed him, his smile serving as his wince and his laughter serving as his yelps of anguish. He could never look them directly at the time even though he eventually became someone few ever dared confront. The beating Soujiro received in the hands of a desperate Akahori earlier served as his reminder that he hadn't really changed much at all.

He winced. He winced and balled himself up at a sight he hadn't seen in many years: the silhouette of a man ready to punch and wallop him into submission.

Then again, perhaps Soujiro merely underestimated the amount of love and caring that Tetsuo Akahori had for his only begotten daughter and how it even trumps wisdom, savvy, and common sense... what with the boy never having experienced such love in his life. With his foster family, he learned derision. With Shishio's faction, he learned strength. With the House of Akahori, he expected to learn more about logic and reason, so he was surprised to see the normally unflappable Akahori go berserk over his daughter's capture when he could've instead used his ability to think on his feet to rescue her.

The milk-haired snow lady stirred in Soujiro's arms. The rest of her body still felt numb and unconscious, but at the very least, she managed to rouse her mind.

"Thank you for saving me," the girl intoned with irises that shook in place... the kind of eye movement that people usually associated with repressed emotionality, but for Rin, it merely served as one of the symptoms of her medical condition. "I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble. I didn't think things would turn out like this when I first came up with the idea to go to Shinshu."

"You're awake. For a second there, I thought I needed to kiss you to wake you up." Soujiro's body burned red from head to toe, which he supposed was caused by the body heat produced by his midnight run.

True-to-form of an "ice woman", one of Rin's eyebrows went straight up as she tilted her head and asked, "Was that your idea of a joke?" which made Soujiro shrug in the middle of his sprint.

"Just don't laugh even if you found it funny. Your laughter scares me a little," Soujiro confessed, amazed at how clearly he delivered that unthinking reply. He then realized that this was one of the few instances where stumbling upon his words would've yielded better results.

After a few minutes, Rin muttered, "Ah. Another joke."

"I guess..." A cloud of mosquitoes splattered across the bare skins of Soujiro and Rin like grains from a fist-full of sand as they passed through it, which jolted the both of them into uneasy wakefulness.

* * *

_Back to communal dining room of the Kamiminochi District Police a few nights ago before November the sixth... _

"None of what we did compares to the horror of what these Christians did and could do to us. The assassinations of the ex-bakufu are all part of their grand scheme to take over our leadership in the same manner the Ishin Shishi did during the Bakumatsu," Sergeant Askikiga groused, his nose upturned as he shook his head at his supposed superior's unpatriotic allegations.

"Do you want Japan to return to those days of civil unrest and bloodshed? The soldiers and policemen who died on November the sixth deserve our utmost respect. You have no right to speak ill of them _at all_."

"Excuse me for _daring_ to criticize our 'faultless' leaders! The Meiji Government and the hanbatsu are hardly perfect. You're barking up the wrong tree, Sarge," Yamazaki retorted.

Captain Nakayama harrumphed, his hot breath reeking of hatred and alcohol. "All I ever need to lern about that politically driven cult, I lernd from the Shimabara Mashakur. Have you ever hurd of the Crushadesh? If you haven't, then shut your mouth. You know nothing. I have no interesht in jushtifying the crimesh of those zealot hypocritesh and mindlesh rebelsh. What about the shoulsh of our shons, brothersh, and fathersh who are shcreaming, shcreaming for jushtish and an end to their pain? Fuck them Kirishitan."

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Captain. I think the lieutenant's right. The Meiji Government basically forced us to murder all sorts of Nagasaki villagers in the belief that they were all Christian rebels working under Amakusa."

Kawashi, a man so short he made Captain Toma Kujo of the Gunma District look normal-sized, spoke out while ignoring the teasing remarks of his compatriots that insisted he should stand up when talking despite the fact that he was already standing.

"I was actually one of the survivors of that mission. I don't know what troop you were in, Captain, but we did some very horrible stuff. Some of those people we killed didn't deserve to be killed."

The svelte, bun-haired, and horse-toothed Officer Tanaka also put his two yen into the conversation. "Look, religion and politics are touchy subjects for most people, so I say if you can't add anything to the conversation, then don't bother saying anything at all," as he gave the harrumphing Officer Kawashi a flippant snort.

"War is normally a method used by high-ranking assholes in Tokyo in order to get richer. These campaigns have nothing to do with making the rest of the world respect Japan as a sovereign nation or ridding us of foreign influences like Christianity and the unequal treaties," Officer Tanaka insisted.

"How many of our leaders have been assassinated in the last twenty years? It's a dog-eat-dog government we have right now, so I don't believe any of the bullshit they're feeding us about doing this and that for the betterment of Japan's worldwide influence. War is a cycle they're perpetuating in order to keep their pockets full while the rest of us get burned for following their questionable orders."

"ENOUGH! Remember our promish to Akahori-shan. He will defend our empire. Our future is in hish handsh, sho we will fight theesh corrupt shonsh of bitchesh to the death alongshide him!"

The flaming-red oni that replaced Nakayama's face roared, hot flecks of spittle spewing forth his swollen maw as he metaphorically melted holes on the floor underneath his feet. It had come to the point where the captain's crew weren't sure if his reddening complexion was more due to sake or anger.

"Theesh hidden crosh worshippursh and relijush nutcashesh are all over Kyushu, particularly Nagashaki. They're hidden in plain shight ash Kakure Kirishitan, they come in all shapesh and shizesh, they're prejudished against both the Japaneesh government and the Japaneesh people, and they're definitely not on our shide. I undershtand that some innoshentsh have to pay during war; we paid our duesh, and sho will they. If we weren't in the middle of a fucking shivil riot right now, I'd pershonally hunt those brainwashed, backwardsh-thinking shitheads down myshelf!"

"But is there really a war going on, captain? The Meiji Government doesn't seem to think so, and they're painting the months' long campaign at Shimabara as nothing more than a skirmish," the tall, heavyset, and chocolate-complexioned Officer Yoshida felt compelled enough to comment, but soon blanched as Nakayama spat, "Shut up, you unpatriotic peeshes of shit. I'm not yet done talking," at his pouting, eggplant-shaped face.

Yamazaki and his supporters shook their heads and turned away from Nakayama in disagreement, but did nothing more as the plump policeman continued his chatter.

"Have you fergutten why Lord Toyotomi Hideyoshi banned Kirishitanitee from Japan all thosh yearsh ago? Let me refresh your memory. My own former troop leader himshelf, Captain Ryuzoji, told me that the edict wash made into a fundamental Tokugawa law in order to avoid letting Japan fall into the colonial trap that caught India, Mexico, the Philippinesh, and a whole bunch of other countreesh too far off for ush to even care about!"

Nakayama slammed his fist onto the table, which knocked over his empty bottle of sake and a couple of his compatriots' cups. "Japan wash actually the largesht oversheesh Kirishitan community a good three centuries ago! Theesh are the shavejesh that ate horsh meat and made shlavesh of their fellow countrymen, for goodnesh shakes! Then and now, they've brought dishorder and chaos into our proud nashun by ruining our traditional valuesh, disrespecting out culture, destroying our laws, and corrupting goodness."

The slow and deliberate drawl of the plump man's speech speeded up an ante or two. "We cannot allow thish fundamentally flawed propaganda machine to go any further! Theesh _Christians_ are nothing more than a group of cop-killing terrorists who murdered top officials in our country, over two thousand of our men, and countless more civilians in order to dictate to us their brainwashed, deviant, and immoral views that hurt our society in the long run and force us to willingly subjugate ourselves to foreign rule. We will not throw away our pride as Japanese people! It's our social obligation to either have them renounce their depraved, cultish faith or exile them where they won't be able to corrupt us with their influence!"

The Kamiminochi Captain slumped down his chair, his vein-filled, burgundy face whitening as his exploits in Shimabara came flooding back to him. 'Shit, I'm sober.'

"W-We have to be brave a-and strong. We can't let what happened to us at Nagasaki ever happen again. Our very _pride_ as a people is being questioned here. I don't give a shit if any of you disagree with me; I'd rather lose those Japanese traitors who became Christians than lose any more of our own men. There will be anti-war dreamers who'll say that we aren't at war; well, tell that to Lieutenant Hiramatsu's widow or Captain Ryuzoji's family. As... as a Japanese citizen who's loyal to our Holy Emperor, I care about the suffering of our enemies' innocents as much as they cared about our innocents."

Under his breath, Nakayama cursed and grumbled as he stormed off straight towards his contingent's designated sleeping quarters.

* * *

_Back to the relative present, at the East Valley... _

At that moment, as Rin rubbed stray grit from her eyes caused by her slumber, she asked, "Why did you save me back then and left my father at the mercy of that Amakusa fellow?"

"It was the right thing to do. Why shouldn't anyone do it?" Soujiro reasoned with a smile, a twitch, and a wince.

"Don't give me an answer you'd expect others to say. Give me your honest answer." Rin's trembling, moon-blue eyes pierced into the smiling facade of the young man before her as they did their best to see if the Ten Ken's mask truly had something underneath it.

Though Soujiro didn't stutter, the steady beat of his Reduced Earth Technique did go out of tempo for a second or two. "Because I don't want you to fall into harm, of course. As soon as I can get you to a safe place, I'll finish off the rebel myself."

"Don't do things because it's a matter of principle. By doing so, you're doing yourself _and_ others a disservice," Rin berated, which made Soujiro's facial muscles move from his jovial expression to more a indeterminate state.

She further remarked, "Before you can help others, you must first help yourself. If there's something compelling you to go through this mission, then discover what it is for yourself. Himura Kenshin himself didn't go protecting the weak because he viewed their needs as above his; he did it for the sake of absolution. He defeated Shishio Makoto when he realized the virtue of looking out for his best interests, which wasn't mutually exclusive from his caring for the welfare of others."

"I don't understand. I thought you'd be happy that I saved you. I thought I made the right decision," Soujiro mumbled at Rin as he almost took a turn that would've led him straight out of Shinshu.

"I'm happy that you rescued me, but I'd be disappointed if you did so only because you'd think it'd make me happy or because you did what was expected of you. Think for yourself." Rin cleared her throat.

"The only 'right' decision for you to make is the one you yourself decided to follow. You shouldn't see things as simple black and white or right and wrong, or else you'll get into trouble. What is white for you may be black for others, and vice-versa."

The creaking click-clack of bamboo surrounded the pair as they passed through the outer fringes of the caned forest in a hurried pace.

"For example, here in Japan, white is the symbol of death. In the west, as you've heard father's foreigner associates tell us, the reverse is instead true. Humans are the ones that force the dichotomy of good and evil into certain things, with good symbolizing everything they approve of and evil symbolizing everything they believe is wrong with the world. As with many philosophies, it depends on the individual, so you can't just blindly accept a belief you abhor. It all depends on you."

"You're giving me a headache again, Rin-san." To Soujiro's amusement... genuine or otherwise... Rin began to rub and massage his temple with one hand.

"Why did you save me?" Rin repeated, her ashen body tense and strained as though it were suffering from rigor mortis.

'I felt empty without you. I couldn't feel anything, even though I knew that I was supposed to feel something. I didn't know what to do, think, or feel when I thought you died, as though there was no point in me doing anything else,' was the answer Soujiro couldn't even begin to express.

Instead, he glanced down at Rin, met her eyes, smiled, moved his head forward, focused his attention back to where he was going... the forest of bamboo he identified as the place where he and Yahiko Myojin fought... and shared, "I don't know. I simply wanted to. Should I have a reason for doing so?"

With a quiver of her mouth that, on others, would've looked like a random fidget, Rin breathed, "That's reason enough. As long as you made that decision by yourself, then it should be all right."

From there, they did their respective versions of laughter, which for Rin's part didn't involve actual laughter at all, just silence, a hint of a smile, and an empty stare using the default expression on her face.

At least Soujiro's guffaws _sounded_ heartfelt, even though most people who knew him and his "condition" couldn't tell what constituted as "sincere" for him. Anyhow, perhaps Rin shouldn't even call her reaction as "laughter" at all, but she nonetheless appreciated the irony.

An upcoming tree branch forced Soujiro's attention back to his jog. They were making good time, so they were about to reach the nearest town soon. Should he leave Rin in Kyoko Sakaguchi's care in Shinshu? If he could, then he would've traveled all the way from Shinshushin to the Aomori docks or even straight back to Hokkaido if called for. Alas, he still had business to attend to back in Akahori's Mansion.

For a moment, Soujiro and Rin stopped in the middle of their momentous run as the former leapt up and felt that one fraction of a second stretch for longer than it was supposed to stretch. Just then, a vision that Soujiro saw six years ago and didn't expect to see for the rest of his life winked into existence in the midst of his precarious jump over a hollow log.

Soujiro's agape mouth went dry as he espied a seemingly fifteen-year-old, fiery-haired, wakizashi-wielding young man wearing a blue kimono, a white undershirt, and an off-white hakama with matching black socks who was the spirit and image of a young Kenshin Kamiya (nee Himura).

Were Soujiro not holding Rin in his arms, he would've used his hands to push his heart back down his empty chest from his throat. His muscle memory had him tense his legs on pure instinct, his torso burning with the nostalgia of a bone-crushing pain caused by the impossibly fast lightning strike of a blunt sword. He remembered seeing Kenshin's left foot sink into the tatami, his eyes never blinking at the inhuman feat of strength.

The person in front of him was a Battousai doppelganger in every sense of the word, right down to his red hair and cross-shaped scar. The imposter also wore standard-issue hitokiri garb and apparel as well as a topknot ponytail typical of assassins during the bakumatsu.

However, after Soujiro's brain adjusted itself in order to better perceive the person in front of it instead of the person it thought it saw, the twenty-something noticed differences both subtle and overt from this apparition.

First, the pair of scars was somehow closer to the fake Battousai's eyes than with the real Battousai's. Second, his eyelids exhibited hints of lazy eye while the roots of his hair were markedly darker than the orange coloring of his predecessor. Third, his stance and movement were completely wrong as he dove straight into the descending pair with a burst of speed slower to what Amakusa displayed earlier.

Soujiro compensated slightly with his overshot landing by doing extra Shukuchi steps to set himself upright, which in turn left heavy footprints and potholes all over the landscape, but at the very least he maintained his equilibrium even though his supposed anchor... Rin Akahori... had slipped his fingers.

He turned around after feeling a burst of wind hit his cheek like a light slap: a parting gift from the ghost of Kenshin's former self, the Hitokiri Battousai. With nary a syllable of warning and right under Soujiro's nose, the Kenshin double had used that window of opportunity to snatch Rin in ways that the real Kenshin's Shinsoku never could.

Soujiro looked behind him and smiled, his eyes aflame with a moonlit fire. The imposter Kenshin went to the direction from which the Ten Ken came, back to the mansion full of Kanto district officers.

* * *

_Back at the front yard of Akahori's mansion... _

The side of Amakusa's temple bled while pieces of the broken metal band he wore around his forehead fell along with him. He gnashed his teeth as he landed hard on his left leg, his body tingling with a fresh wave of torture.

After the charismatic Christian radical landed back on the ground while sporting a fresh new bullet wound... the person responsible for it crawling back to the safety of his mansion's study as he struggled to make his lungs work again... a hail of hot lead and bayonets followed.

The lanky redhead thought fast and used battoujutsu to shatter the spears coming at him while diving headfirst into the nearest brigade in order to use them as human shields from the shower of lead. 'Two gone. One left. I've been careless.'

"I went through the trouble of finding a way to kill the devil known as Akahori Tetsuo without involving any of you, yet you threw your chances for survival away anyway." He lopped off a number of ears and fingers in order to get through the crowd and move to safer ground. "The last thing I want to do is involve you, the people whom I have hurt the most, in my personal crusade. However, that ship of mercy has sailed, and circumstances dictate that I try a different approach."

The Kanagawa and Gunma groups struggled to pursue the blabbering yet wounded Christian madman with sabers and rifle fire, but one simple look into Amakusa's dilated eyes had them gasping for air and flinching away at the mere sight of him, as though his presence by itself proved exhausting. He was he sun; a celestial body they couldn't even bear to stare at for too long, untouchable and immovable by mortal whiles and means. If the Christian God or the Enlightened Buddha were to grace their presence among mortals, then either would probably look like Amakusa did right at that moment.

Amakusa gripped the scabbard of his sword so tightly, blood started to drip from his clenched fist. "This is your last chance to save yourselves. From this point on, this mansion is your Sodom and Gomorrah, and every last person that dares defy my will shall suffer a fate far worse than being rained upon fire and brimstone from the sky. You're all sinners in my eyes, and if you try and stop me, you will face the might and wrath of the One True God. No one shall be spared."

More like a tsunami than an avalanche, Amakusa razed through the crowd of stunned police officers from Kanagawa and Gunma by glaring straight into the eyes of the awed coppers and struck at their feet, lower legs, thighs, necks, shoulders, upper arms, lower arms, scalps, and faces with machine-like precision. He got them two, three, or even five at a time, jettisoning the injured, hemorrhaging policemen right behind him to ward off any possible sneak attacks from the rear.

Amakusa speed-painted the yard with the bodily fluids of his enemies, his sword serving as his brush of sorts. Although he rushed his charge in order to attend to a more pressing matter, the slashes that he did land on the shell-shocked officers... which looked more like abrasions than incisions, for some reason... did the job in draining their already pale faces of blood.

On cue, several of the remaining Togakudan immediately took the initiative to distribute ammunition and extra weapons to the mostly untouched ranks of the Kamiminochi and Tokyo contingents while the others carried the injured, disarmed, or dying to the safety of the mansion.

"Those of you from the Togakudan who aren't busy, man that Armstrong cannon again, and get us some more ammo! Those of you in the Kanagawa Troop who haven't fired their weapons, get them ready! The rest of you! Get out of the way so that we can get a clear shot of that terrorist bastard!" In the middle of Captain Yamada's shepherding of the hesitant police force, Amakusa leapt right over the whole lot of them in order to confront the astute Kanagawa district leader face-to-face.

"You're a smart one, Yamada Kuniumi-taicho. You're pretty quick on the uptake," Amakusa appraised in midair before gravity exerted its influence and let him dive right at the unmoving policeman's jugular with a downward, perpendicular strike. "Such a waste, though."

Yamada managed to block the strike with his bayonet-fitted Murata rifle before the sword could hit the vein, but he inexplicably hesitated just as he attempted to either shoot or counterattack with his gun, which helped Amakusa pierce through his chest and lung instead. In the interim, both Yahiko and Captain Ujiki let out stifled, simultaneous gasps after witnessing the assault.

"How'd you know my...?" Yamada hyperventilated, his eyes zigzagging everywhere as he trembled, the nearest of his fellow Kanagawa officers preparing to either shoot or stab at the stationary Amakusa. He then froze. "Holy shit. There's a traitor...!"

In response, Amakusa turned away and kicked Yamada in the stomach in order to gain enough leverage to yank his sword out and jump away from the approaching bullets. Assorted shouts of "CAPTAIN!" and "CAPTAIN YAMADA!" echoed across the yard while asphyxiating blood spurted forth the Kanagawa commander's stab wound like a red fountain.

Amakusa whispered after doing the sign of the cross, "Almighty God, through the death of your Son..."

A sobbing Sergeant Satoru Sakaguchi arrived first to his captain's side, cupping the injury and applying pressure to it the best he could, but his hands merely slipped from Yamada's body because of the growing pool of slick redness surrounding the both of them. Yamada tried to talk, to give some sort of comforting words to his horrified subordinate, but all he could muster was his own blood. He died in mere minutes not from his blood loss, but from choking to death.

A few yards away, three of the Togakudan... the tomato-nosed Nishiguchi, the owl-eyed Okazaki, and the just-a-bit-less-effeminate-than-Minoe-but-not-by-much Minamoto... tried their very best to dig Raedo Nagaoka, the damaged Gatling gun, and themselves out of the impromptu graves that Amakusa created by somehow producing a landslide from the sheer awesomeness of his sword strike.

"YAMADA-SAAAAAAAAN!" Captain Kujo screamed with glistening eyes that he hastily wiped after realizing Amakusa's plan. "What's wrong with you people? You heard the man! Fire at Amakusa as fast and as furiously as you can while the closest of you should either stab at him or regroup from a proper distance! Gunma Squadron! DO IT NOW! That's an order!"

To his chagrin, Kujo identified two of his men... the coffee-skinned pair of the balding Takahashi and the baggy-eyed Hosokawa... running for their lives along with other officers from different contingents and exiting the compound via the wide-open gates.

"C-Captain! I can't explain it, but our l-limbs feel h-heavy. We c-can barely breathe, and this is an open-air courtyard! I d-don't understand it myself," Kujo's trembling second-in-command... the hawk-nosed, pale-skinned, and slit-eyed Teraku Kimura... elucidated after asking the rest of the Gunma company their status beforehand. "I'm not sure w-what Amakusa did, b-but our r-reflexes are slower than usual."

"It's true, Captain. I've heard r-rumors about that man back in Shimabara; something about him p-possessing the hypnotic eyes of a snake that f-freezes p-people int-t-to place, which is part of the reason why h-he killed so many s-soldiers and policemen six years ago!" the bleeding and flushed Officer Aburakoji chimed in between pants and wheezes.

"What the hell are you two babbling about? That's utter bullshit! Hosokawa and Takahashi certainly didn't look at all paralyzed when they scuttled away from here like little pink pussies! You're all part of the Gunma Police, dammit! Don't make up lame excuses for your subpar work! Pull yourselves together, and don't let that _one_ man intimidate you!"

The diminutive Kujo tugged and jerked at his hair in every which way as his immediate subordinates chose the worst time to be superstitious country bumpkins.

"CAPTAIN! BEHIND YOU!" the wide-framed Gunma Sergeant Souta Watanabe warned as he unsheathed his saber and interposed himself between the looming Amakusa and the frustrated Kujo. The thin metal blade appeared to shatter, and Watanabe himself "shattered" along with it.

Pieces of cloth, a belt buckle, a halved hat, blood, guts, internal organs, and shattered bone sprayed across the three Gunma policemen. If only the traumatized captain had enough presence of mind to check himself, then he would've noticed that the kanji for the numbers one, eight, and ten had been painted on his uniform using the mortal remains of his loyal sergeant.

"...Amen," Amakusa murmured before turning his attention to his next target. "Hello. You're Captain Kujo Tomo, I presume? Your time has come." The rebel cleaned his sword with this lengthy robe in front of the blood-splattered captain. "Don't worry, though. Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning."

* * *

It happened so fast. Way too fast.

Yahiko's sweat and blood ran cold as, one after another, Akahori's personal army of Kanto district police officers dropped from Amakusa's midst like moths to a flame before he even had the chance to undo the cloth wrappings of the sakabatou. The samurai boy didn't even bother checking if Minoe and Gan followed him as he went to investigate the sudden twist of fate. 'We were fifty-two; three down, forty-nine to go. Dammit. I've failed my promise to protect these people, Kenshin. I'm sorry.'

Red hair. Crossed-shaped scar... or rather, crucifix-shaped scar, but it was mostly the same difference to him. 'Is this the man who massacred the fake Battousai Group save for Keisuke three weeks ago? It sure looks like it. He certainly acts the part of someone who's used to manhandling entire armies! Damn.'

With a shudder, Yahiko concentrated hard to override his instincts and automatic responses to Amakusa's surprisingly powerful and imperceptible aura, particularly the tunnel vision that stopped him from comprehending the course of this Battousai doppelganger's trail.

He felt his head alternate between prickling hot and cold wooziness as all sorts of internal organ processes happened within him, namely the loss of hearing, relaxation of his bladder, dilation of blood vessels for muscles, constriction of muscles for everything else, and acceleration of lung and heart operations. 'Relax. Relax like you did when you fought Psycho-Kid.'

Instinct and forethought fought for about a self-contained eternity as Yahiko's locus coerulus increased its rate of noradrenergic activity to the point where his whole environment snapped into sharp, grotesque focus.

At that moment, the profusion of catecholamines all over his neuroreceptors enabled his body to dig deep into the fighting instincts he'd sharpened for six years straight. The endless hours of physical exertion and waving a bamboo sword to and fro had served their purpose well in replacing his natural instinct to either flee or fight for mere survival.

At that point, Yahiko became aware of just how many of the police officers stood or lay there and, more importantly, just why they couldn't get over their seeming distress at the two confirmed deaths.

'They're not traumatized to the point of being shell-shocked! They've been trained to handle worse cases than this! It's just that this crazy cultist is using his kenki to freeze them into place, just like with Kenshin and Kurogasa! Well, more like Kenshin, less than Kurogasa, because he doesn't outright turn them into living statues or anything.'

"Out of the way, pipsqueak! I have a job to do," Ujiki growled as he elbowed the contemplative sixteen year old to the side. "If you know what's good for you, then get the hell out of this cursed mansion. I saw a number of cowards do just that, and they had guns, sabers, and bayonets handy. I heard you inherited Battousai's toy sword. You better run away."

"You! Don't tell me that you're going to throw away your life for money too! You probably weren't even part of that Modern Shimabara War that everybody's talking about," Yahiko presumed, but this was actually his halfhearted attempt at making Ujiki hesitate from confronting Amakusa while he himself attacked the whirling dervish of pious violence.

"Oh, fuck you. This isn't about money. You saw the moves that Amakusa used, did you not? You must have noticed it too. He's using your idol's Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. The stabbing movements and some other sword style he had threw me off at first, but it's unmistakable. Did Battousai have some sort of lost classmate or student that went bat-shit crazy? Because that describes Amakusa Shogo to a 't'!"

"No, it's impossible! Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu is passed down from only one master to one student! At most, there can only be two practitioners at any one time!" Yahiko reasoned out, feeling somehow perturbed by what Ujiki implied. "Isn't it?"

"Guess what, kiddo? Amakusa fucking Shogo-sama just changed the fucking rules! I never seen Battousai do that avalanche technique before, but I'd know that leaping attack from anywhere. Amakusa is using Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. Period." The brusque Ujiki pushed the irresolute Yahiko aside in order to finally meet up with the rest of the Tokyo squadron; he just remembered that didn't have time to argue with children.

'Dou Ryu Sen. Ryu Tsui Sen,' Yahiko ticked off his mental checklist as his disbelief transformed itself into comprehension. He had to face facts; for whatever reason, this Amakusa fellow truly was using the top secret techniques of Kenshin's sword school, and it totally blew the Tokyoite's mind. 'If he is using Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu techniques, then what's with the sweeping brushstroke slashes he deploys from time to time?'

"I don't know what the hell Heishiro Mitsurugi Ryu is, but I'm pretty sure that guy over there is practicing Nikaido Heiho," Gan intimated from behind Yahiko with his signature gruffness, which _almost_ earned him a bleeding nose care of a startled teenager's spinning palm strike.

"What do you know about Nikaido Heiho? Do you know who Kurogasa is?" Yahiko grabbed hold of the beefy older man's... gi? Shirt? Vest? Whatever it was, he maintained a tight grip on it and looked deep into the lantern-jawed, slightly fetid, and bandanna-wearing hooligan's mud-brown eyes.

Gan picked his nose as his eyes gazed upward in consideration. "Black Hat? Never heard of him. But I did hear that there were at least two practitioners of the art who were part of the Shinsengumi at one time. One of them became an assassin and the other became a serial killer. It makes one think that this martial art does things to people's heads or something."

Yahiko licked his lips as he continued shaking the mountain of a brute in front of him. "What about the guy who defected into the Ishin Shishi and became a hitokiri?"

"Hey, hey! Settle down, Yoshi-boy." The Ginormous Gan picked Yahiko up and plopped him down like a grown man would a puppy dog. The ruffian-looking hobo... or vice-versa... shrugged. "Sorry. I have no clue. I thought you'd know, what with your man-crush with the Hitokiri Battousai and all."

Yahiko nodded with a sinking heart as the urgency of the situation resurfaced in his mind. "What about Amakusa? Where is he now? I lost him in the confusion. Has he already managed to get into the mansion?"

"Huh? Oh, don't get any ideas, Yoshi-boy! That terrorist is like a whole arsenal of unsheathed swords in the middle of a hurricane or something. You'll get slaughtered if you dare fight him, especially with that toy sword of yours that can't even cut flesh! It's better that you run away now." Even though Yahiko wouldn't dare admit it, the Generally Incoherent Gan made a lot of sense.

Nevertheless, the sixteen-year-old teen chose to roll his eyes and undo the straps of his wrapped sakabatou in preparation for battle. "Never mind. I'll find him myself." The boy set his eyes on the flashes of red in the distance while his body fell into its automatic fighting stance.

When trouble came afoot, his swordsman training taught him to let his instincts and discipline take over. His callused hand loosened up as a familiar calm enveloped him despite the palpitations of his heart and the little voice in his head that told him to run far away from that cavalcade of imminent ruin... a voice he'd long ago ignored even before he achieved mastery of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, when he faced off against a giant with a sword even larger than he was at the time.

"You know, I was thinking... if you really want to get the reward, we can always sneak in the mansion, snatch up old Oyakata-face from his lofty perch, and get the fuck away from... Hey! Where are you going? YOSHI-BOY!"

* * *

_Forty minutes past midnight, at Akahori's Shinshushin Manor... _

"Tokyo troopers! Show these hicks and farm boys how we do things back in the big city! I have one overruling order that cannot be broken: Cover me while I get that Armstrong cannon!" Ujiki shouted out and instructed several Togakudan to make sure his command was distributed across his regimen and the rest of the surviving troopers post-haste.

"Lieutenant Iino! Lead half of our healthiest officers and form a saber squad against Amakusa! Don't engage that insane terrorist directly and always fight as a group! Use as much stabbing motions as possible and then start shooting your rifles as you back away. Sergeant Kazunari! Get the rest of our men who can still hold a rifle and have them cover me and Iino. Shoot at his body because it's the larger target, and shoot as a team! If that bastard ever slows down, take a headshot! Officer Kosaburo, help Sarge out with the shootout!"

Both the big-headed, slab-like, and six-foot lieutenant and the smug, average-sized, yet beautiful sergeant nodded in instant acquiescence to the Tokyo captain's commands. However, Officer Kosaburo Shinichi couldn't help but tilt his neck and body away from Ujiki while asking, "M-Me? But, sir! I'm only an officer!"

The brusque commander lifted his nose at Kosaburo and struck him with an openhanded smack. "You're part of the Kamiya Dojo, aren't you? Then you're probably familiar with how Battousai attacks. That somersaulting asshole is using Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. Help our troops figure out the pattern behind his movements with whatever knowledge of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu you possess."

Kosaburo reeled more in shock at his own captain's confirmation of his suspicions regarding the nature of Amakusa's inhuman capabilities than of the suggestion that he take an awfully active part in pursuing that very same religious insurgent. "Y-Y-Yessir! Right away, sir!"

Subsequently, he took aside one of the shinobi... a svelte, eye-patched girly man by the name of Matsuo or whoever... and asked, "Status report. What's going on in the field? Who is Amakusa fighting now and what has happened to our different police groups?" Ujiki resisted the urge to vomit; the diminutive man reeked of blood, so he was presumably assigned by his troop to assist the wounded.

"Tokyo Captain-chi, the rebel has injured nearly all of the Kanagawa contingent, the majority of the Gunma contingent, and he had directly killed Captain Yamada Kuniumi-chi, Captain Nakayama Haruo-chi, and Officer Watanabe Souta-chi. Also, five of the officers had already run away from this place."

"Fucking cowards." Ujiki hacked up some phlegm and spat at the ground. "Wait, what do you mean by 'directly killed'?"

"Quite a number of the officers are on the verge of death thanks to the injuries Amakusa caused, but there are also those who got injured because they were used as shields from the bullets. I believe an officer from Kanagawa died this way," the diminutive man with tousled hair that hid half of his face informed.

Ujiki furrowed his eyebrows. "And what about Officer Souta? How did he get killed?

"He was sliced into pieces in an attempt to save Captain Kujo's life."

"Son of a bitch. He's executing all the captains first, and then everyone else that attempts to stop him." Ujiki gripped his saber tight in either fear or anticipation, his calluses serving as natural gloves within his gloves that numbed his hands' sensation of touch. He understood Amakusa's plans.

"'Kill the head, and the body will follow,' huh? So he had a Plan B after all. Well, fuck that shit. Here's another order I want you to spread to the rest of the squadrons; the next people in command will automatically lead the rest of their respective contingents. If all that's left are officers, they'll be reporting directly to _me_ or to your leader, Nagaoka. Got it?"

"Sir-chi, Raedo-sempai is presently unconscious." The Togakudan spy cringed as Ujiki let loose a stream of crisp curses.

"Then fucking elect a goddamn leader or, better yet, they'll be answering directly to Akahori. If Akahori dies, they'll have no point in being here anyway! Oh yeah, where's the rebel now?"

"Fighting the rest of the Kamiminochi and Gunma troops."

"He'll make mincemeat out of them. Get as many Togakudan as you can to help me setup the fucking cannon. The rest of you, you already know your orders. Move out!"

The Togakudan messenger saluted as the Tokyo captain ran towards the cannon, the air from the sudden movement flipping up his eye patch and revealing an eye with scars beneath it. "Yessir."

* * *

_Forty-one minutes past midnight, at the portion of the yard strewn with dismembered limbs and lifeless bodies... _

The noise of blades whistling into the air and gunfire ripping through the ground reverberated across the yard, which drowned out the scarce, scant tings of clanging metal. Soon after, wet squelches and gurgling screams replaced all of these sounds in a aural cacophony of nightmarish onomatopoeia. Amakusa slid his shining sword into his ebony scabbard while ducking to avoid the nearest rifle shot.

"Shiro Amakusa the Second. That was your name before. It's appropriate, because you're now riding on the reputation of another person that's superior to...!" The top of the speaker's head slid off from his lower jaw from behind his brandished saber that also shattered into a drizzle of steel as well.

Lieutenant Okami Yamazaki identified the murdered officer as Cho Oimikado, the same person who patronized him in regards to his "naive" beliefs concerning the government's hand in covering up the absolute slaughter that the Modern Shimabara War turned out to be. However, irony remained the farthest thing in his mind as he surveyed the bloodbath before him.

He tried not to think about the splayed arms and limbs his feet stepped on as he fell into his Sojutsu stance for the Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu with his bayonet-equipped rifle (freshly delivered by the surrounding Togakudan), rivulets of sweat mixing with the dark stain of blood on his blue uniform, eating away at his consciousness and resolve like acid.

Shit, shit, shit. This was really happening. Shit, shit, shit.

Just as Amakusa attempted to take the life of little Captain Tomo Kujo of the Gunma squadron, the remaining Kamiminochi officers led by Lieutenant Yamazaki and Sergeant Isao Askikaga charged at the rebel with blazing guns and withdrawn sabers.

Officers Ronin Kawashi, Hoshi Yoshida, and Hiro Tanaka arrived first with the intention of turning the Kamiminochi Captain's murderer into a bayonet-and-bullet pincushion. Amakusa shredded through them with sharp strikes coming from the oddest angles without so much as a second glance.

Yamazaki resisted his nausea upon realizing just what clung to the underside of his boots at the moment and soldiered on, hoping for nothing but good karma for his deceased compatriots' sakes even though they died ignominious deaths.

He remembered the pint-sized Kawashi's blusterous support of his views on the supposed massacre of the Hidden Christians of Nagasaki, the buck-toothed Tanaka's wishy-washy attitude on the matter, and the gigantic Yoshida's disappointment over the Meiji Government's disrespect over their contributions to the war effort.

In the face of what happened at that juncture, all their words ended up hollow and worthless; the ultimate rebuttal that somehow made the ranting Nakayama's Anti-Christian tirade appear valid and justified in hindsight. This left a sour taste in the lieutenant's mouth.

However, before the surviving Kamiminochi troopers could even react, the remaining Gunma forces... about five of them left, with the others either dead, injured, or fleeing away, Yamazaki reckoned... surrounded the speechless Kujo with a protective wall of bayonets and cocked bolt-action rifles.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **The Wrath of God.

_Looks like I'm treading political waters now. I do hope people understand that the views of the characters aren't necessarily my views and so on. I also hope that my quest to flesh out the characters so they don't turn into political strawmen has been somewhat successful. _

_Oh, and the line about the Christian God or Enlightened Buddha was inspired by a similar line in the last few chapters of Grayson Towler's epic masterpiece, "Relentless". That fanfic is highly recommended. As per usual, Amakusa's quoted dialogue is a sprinkling of bible verses and some such._

**Nasaan ang panginoon mo ngayon?_  
_**Abdiel


	18. Chapter 18

_After Captain Nakayama died, at the front yard of Akahori's mansion... _

Nakayama's forgotten bottle of sake shattered on the pavement of the stone-tiled pavilion as Shogo Amakusa prayed for the officer's gurgling and incoherent form to rest in peace. From there, chaos erupted.

With no further ceremony and before the rest of the officers regained their senses, Amakusa jumped on the nearest tall tree and rebounded from it in order to arrive right on the ledge of the balcony where Tetsuo Akahori lay, his sword unsheathed and ready to go at the unprotected politician before any of the flabbergasted policemen below could cock their guns and take shots at him.

"Away to the eternal fire, which has been prepared for the Devil and his angels," the redheaded insurgent recited as he spun and integrated the force of centrifugal motion into his upcoming assault. "For the upright shall dwell in the land, and the perfect shall remain in it."

"This is what happens when grown men rely on fiction and fairy tales to govern their lives. They try to murder heads of state in between fits of delusion." Akahori stood up, rifled through his coat, produced an imported Colt Single-Action Army revolver, and emptied two rounds aiming at Amakusa's forehead.

A flash of brightness that turned nighttime to daylight for a second occurred as Akahori knelt down, took aim, and fired his gun. Had the witnesses to the event not known any better, they would've sworn that lightning blasted right out of the ball of white flame above them.

After an instant of dizzying disorientation, the police officers and the Togakudan spies saw Amakusa fall back down to the pock-marked ground while Akahori scrabbled at his chest and suffered from a nasty coughing fit, the pieces of an unidentifiable substance scattered across the veranda floor.

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_Shogo Amakusa wasn't _only_ based on the historical Shiro Amakusa and the real-life religious nut known as Shoko Asahara._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Men in Blue and ****Red**

* * *

_Forty-one minutes past midnight, at the portion of the yard strewn with dismembered limbs and lifeless bodies... _

"Protect the captain! Let's make sure that Souta-kun's death isn't in vain! Let's finish off that cultist or die trying!" came the marble-white, hawk-nosed Gunma lieutenant's rallying call to his men as they bowed their heads and trained their eyes at the murderer of their dearly departed comrade, the plump yet heroic Sergeant Watanabe.

Yamazaki's lips quivered as he gave the blood-bathed corpse of his fallen captain a moist and blurry sideway glance along with the rest of his squad.

In turn, Amakusa responded to the challenge by backpedaling in a split-second to give himself a running start, sheathed his sword, fell into a battoujutsu posture, and charged; his eyes black and languid, his mouth a hairline crescent of irrepressible contempt.

"S-Souta-kun..." the listless Captain Kujo whispered before his face paled to the point of nigh-transparency. He barked, "T-Teraku-kun, wait! Don't charge at him at the same time!"

With rifles exploding and bayonets soaring at anywhere within the murderous, rampaging Christian's vicinity, the fearless officers bracing themselves for anything including the avalanche-like technique that the rebel relied upon during tough spots, the cult leader took an earth-shattering step forward and released his blade from its container in a clean, overpowering arc.

Like magic, all five policemen flew back due to the sheer strength of Amakusa's magnificent sword-drawing strike. The nearest of the Gunma officers had their bodies cut in messy halves, their faces frozen with mangled expressions and empty shrieks. The three who escaped instant death still found themselves in a compromising position, the charismatic cult leader's katana slicing bone-deep into their own bodies. Time left no meaning to them.

"T-Toshi-kun? S-Shou-kun?" the seemingly anemic Gunma captain murmured the first names of Officer Konno and Officer Yoshida respectively as their upper torsos separated from the rest of their bodies, the smell of their blood mingling with the caking blood on his skin... Watanabe's blood. His dry mouth shrunk and his left eye twitched as he witnessed Yoshida produce more of a gut-wrenching mess than Konno did because of the former officer's immense girth. "N-No... It can't be...!"

His blood draining from his body at a rapid rate, Gunma Lieutenant Kimura gargled red and white as he instructed his men to, "Get him now. His battoujutsu has left him wide open! Attack! ATTACK!" Unfortunately for Kimura and his surviving men, Amakusa got them hook, line, and sinker with the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu's feinted openings and nearly nonexistent weaknesses.

Kimura found himself cut vertically before he could press the trigger of his Murata gun; his final thoughts had him pondering just how on earth Amakusa sliced him open when the rebel's sword wasn't anywhere near him. Subsequently, the redheaded terrorist used the lieutenant's remains as a macabre cloak of sorts that helped him slice off the limbs of the remaining two officers using the same brushstroke-like swipes he employed against Sergeant Watanabe.

His throat coarsened with dread and dreary acceptance, the Kamiminochi lieutenant snarled to his company, "Brace yourselves. Reload. Fire at Amakusa when ready."

"TERAKU-KUN! SHUN-KUN! RYOZO-KUN! NOOOOOO!"

"Lieutenant, the Gunma police...!" Sergeant Askikaga hissed with grit teeth, but stopped cold after staring into Yamazaki's eyes. The lieutenant couldn't help but wonder what his subordinate saw in his expression. Was it determination or defeat?

"They're as good as dead. Fire. Aim forward, then skyward. Don't leave him any breathing space."

Amakusa pushed the limbless officers towards the approaching gunfire before leaping up to an unbelievable height, his form silhouetted by the third quarter moon. Of course, by this time, the Kamiminochi squad knew the Christian's modus operandi when it came to fighting, so they aimed their guns accordingly toward the heavens. Meanwhile, the lieutenant himself fired the preliminary ground-level shots that forced the terrorist to the sky while also putting the handicapped and dying Gunma officers out of their misery at the same time.

"THEY'RE ALL DEAD! BY THE GODS, they're all dead..." Captain Kujo wailed and gnashed his teeth, his trembling hands scraping at the dirt for no rhyme or reason, his face muddied with a combination of drying blood, tears, and anguish.

* * *

_Fifty-seven minutes past midnight, near the gunpowder-reeking crater where the Armstrong cannon lay... _

Amidst explosions that left the surrounding area stinking with the distinct stench of gunpowder, Ujiki had reached his intended destination. His battle plan to keep Amakusa at arm's length (so to speak) had enabled his Tokyo troopers to buy him enough time to get to the discarded Armstrong cannon.

In contrast to the other policemen present, he didn't have any vested interest in killing Amakusa. He held no grudge against the man himself. However, he immediately volunteered for the mission after hearing that a so-called _ Battousai_ Group announced plans for assassinating Tetsuo Akahori. He'd sooner commit seppuku than let an opportunity to go against "Battousai" pass him by, even if these people were just fakers and frauds.

Imagine his delight when he discovered that this religious extremist that they were after actually practiced the sword techniques of Kenshin Himura... or Kenshin Kamiya, if he had to be technical about it... himself! His indescribable delight nearly consumed his sanity. He obsessed about it for weeks, going to the extreme of even learning the specifics of arming the Armstrong cannon and the Gatling gun just in case the members of Akahori's Togakudan were too indisposed to do their job.

With that said, the Tokyo captain still chanced upon a Togakudan spy near the cannon... a big-nosed, tomato-faced man in a garish blue and purple uniform, from the looks of things. "Hey, what's-your-face; is your leader here?"

The frog-like man recognized Ujiki and saluted despite showing off a moue of emotion on his pouted mouth that the Tokyo captain presumed was annoyance. "_Nishiguchi Takate_ reporting for duty, sir. Raedo-aniki was last seen near the Gatling gun, Captain."

"Whatever. Help me set up the cannon. One way or another, we're going to finish off that Battousai wannabe for good and have the honor of killing the supposed One-Man Army of Shimabara," Ujiki beckoned, but for some reason, Nishiguchi did not heed his request.

"Are you deaf, Nishiguchi? Help me arm this thing." Ujiki heard a cannon shell fall to his feet. "What the hell is your problem? I gave you an order, you little worm!" The captain fell silent as he saw the Togakudan's face contort and warp into a parody of its former self. "N-Nishiguchi?"

Half-laughing and half-hysterical, Ujiki howled as Nishiguchi's nose fell off like a clopped tip of a carrot. Afterwards, the sounds from the former Saitama captain's mouth transformed into soul-rendering shrieks that could barely be qualified as human once the rest of Nishiguchi's body followed suit with his nose and turned into a mishmash of meat cubes, guts, and soupy blood.

Behind the deceased Togakudan came forth the cloaked and crouched figure of Amakusa; he used his cape to clean his sword, Ujiki noted with a faint feeling of disorientation and a stomach on revolt.

The captain smoothed his hair and clothes as he struggled to control his breath and palpitating heart, his eyes darting back and forth between the mad rebel and the piece of artillery while making a point to avoid the stew-like remains of Akahori's lackey. "I take it my men weren't able to keep you as preoccupied as I thought they would?"

In response, Amakusa stood up and picked up two darkened, globular shapes from behind him. At that point, Ujiki had to retch and hurl; the Christian just threw to his feet the heads of Lieutenant Iino and Sergeant Kazunari.

"I was looking for you, Captain Ujiki. If only you and the rest of the other commanders just gave up from the very start, then you wouldn't have suffered this many casualties. Granted, if you'd just let me have Akahori when I announced his assassination, then we wouldn't even be in this predicament."

As he wiped his mouth, Ujiki wondered aloud, "It seems that you were able to immediately pick out the commanders from the officers with ease. You had a spy, didn't you?"

Amakusa smirked as he stalked his latest prey. "It doesn't matter if I did or didn't have a spy. A Battousai-obsessed dead man is still a dead man regardless."

Ujiki chuckled as he unsheathed his saber, fully remembering Akahori's words on how to best handle the cult leader. "Your spy is pretty good at spying. Then again, so were my men when it came to fighting. For someone who could take on a thousand men alone, it now looks like you've just taken on a thousand men."

Amakusa snorted as he slashed at Ujiki's stomach while blocking a stab with his metal sheath. "Was _this_ the special plan Akahori proposed in order to protect himself with just fifty-something guards? Making them ask me inane questions?"

"No, no. You don't understand. Akahori has figured you all out. Most of us did, which is why you look like you've just been crucified. You're a one-man army? Don't make me laugh." Ujiki resisted the impulse to wince at the searing sensation his sliced abdomen left; he hadn't been freshening up on the fundamentals of Jigen Ryu's Ni-No-Tachi Irazu for nothing, after all.

"And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away."

"Another quote from your scriptures? How quaint. You claim to do your god's bidding, but more often than not, your actions run in direct contradiction to your own beliefs... and you know it." Ujiki gave the eerie, doll-eyed heads of Iino and Kazunari a token glance before pointing at Amakusa's gunshot wounds and asking, "Why weren't you able to kill Officer Kosaburo?"

Amakusa flinched before answering, "So that was the officer's name?"

Ujiki grinned, hollered, and nodded as if to say, "Yes, that's the inch I needed to defeat you, bitch." Aloud, he informed Amakusa, "He knows quite a lot about Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. I presume he helped immensely in turning your fetching little caped costume into a holey mess, if you would pardon my pun. I guess your little spy wasn't so good at spying after all."

Amakusa harrumphed as he parried Ujiki's playful strikes and countered with a slash to the neck that the policeman also blocked as well. "Yes, yes, you've got me. So I didn't kill one of your officers. It doesn't matter anyway, because I killed all your senior officers."

"You didn't mean to kill Kazunari, did you? You were planning to, but Kosaburo ended up being a much bigger threat. That's the problem with you, you hypocritical Christian madman; you have this deluded sense of justice and self-righteousness in your actions, although when everything is said and done, you're just another criminal in a world full of them."

Amakusa pressed on with his attack, but like the Kamiminochi sergeant before him, Ujiki proved himself a worthy enough opponent to counter the lower-level techniques of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. He considered trying out higher-tier skills just to get things done and over with as soon as possible, but his body wasn't in the best of shape at the moment; he had to conserve his depleted energy for now.

"Sodomite! I refuse to be defeated by some heathen who went out of his way to interpose himself into a situation he shouldn't be involved with just to make up for a humiliating defeat he suffered in the hands of someone who incidentally shares the same sword techniques as I do."

Amakusa attempted a Dou Ryu Sen, but the captain countered and sidestepped superbly; the wasted effort sapped the Christian's strength and earned him torn flesh as though from a scourging. The Jigen Ryu's powerful strikes prevented him from gaining any momentum.

"Ah, so you did do your research on me after all. Well, guess what? You're probably better off spouting bible quotes than speaking your mind, you brainwashed and insipid terrorist freak! Instead of forming your opinions using some book with outdated morals and stories, how about you make up your own mind and think for yourself for once?"

Then came the untamed Ryu Sou Sen, which the Tokyo captain didn't bother to block strike-for-strike; he instead opted to dodge and attack after the second blow, aborting the Dragon Nest Flash before it started.

"_You're_ calling me a Battousai-obsessed heathen? You have no right to judge me as anything because of your beliefs, you hypocrite! You want to know what I am? I'm a man. A human being. I won't be subjugated to anyone or anything. You have no right to label me, tell me what to do, or impose on me what to believe in; if some god supposedly made me, then show him to me! Don't take his place in proving his existence!"

Sparks flew as Ujiki inched further. "Ever since I was defeated by the greatest hitokiri of our generation, I practiced day and night with all the secrets behind Satsuma's Ni-No-Tachi Irazu of the Jigen Ryu. I thought I lost my chance for revenge when I heard that the Battousai was sick with some sort of disease, but once I learned about _you_ and the fact that you practiced Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu too, I knew that fighting you was a chance that I cannot miss."

Amakusa sheathed his sword and did a battoujutsu strike, but that ended up in failure because Ujiki used his own charging technique to thrust at him simultaneously. In a second, they both ended up back-to-back... facing away from each other... wounded because of their respective assaults.

"You keep on trying to convince yourself that you're the hero of this story, but deep down you've realized long ago that there's nothing heroic about what you're doing. That's how Kosaburo survived; Sergeant Kazunari must have sacrificed his life in order to save the kid, and you were so moved by the act that you spared the boy that almost got you killed in the first place. How does it feel to kill a man who's a much bigger hero and savior than you could ever be?"

* * *

_Forty-three minutes past midnight, at the portion of the yard strewn with dismembered limbs and lifeless bodies... _

To the Kamiminochi officers' surprise, that fraction of a second where they anticipated Amakusa's next move paid off; instead of the rebel executing a leaping slash at the nearest policeman, he instead twirled in awkward positions just to avoid the ripping projectiles surrounding him.

"Sarge! Officer Heiko! Cycle load! Keep that suppressive gunfire going so that Amakusa stays on one spot!" Yamazaki called out, referring to the Kanto police's practice of letting some officers fire while the others reloaded in a continuous loop to keep their bullets flying and their enemies corralled.

"I have a better idea. Cover us, Heiko! We're going in!" Askikaga requested to the Napoleonic officer as he brandished his saber. "You can have my rifle; we're going to do the formation one last time."

"We're going to finish that bastard off before the Tokyo assholes can? Sweet! I'll fill him full of holes!" Heiko grinned as he cocked his gun with malicious intent.

"Lieutenant, help me out with that son of a bitch. I'm going to need your spearing expertise. We'll have to use the formation that the captain taught us again."

"Wait, you're a commanding officer! You're being too reckless," Yamazaki berated as a feeling of deja vu swept him; they'd reversed roles somehow, he and his sergeant.

"It doesn't matter at this point. We're the only ones left, and Amakusa is mainly targeting all the commanding officers. Let's give him what he wants this time. Let him choke on it too." Askikaga chuckled. "Oh, and I told you so. The captain and I were right."

"I still say you're both fucking xenophobe bigots." Yamazaki would've rolled his eyes were he and his men not busy keeping the zigzagging Amakusa from escaping. "Fine. Go ahead and prove me wrong some more. Once this is all over, I'll buy us some sake in memory of our comrades."

The Kamiminochi sergeant winked; unbeknownst to him, a sparkle of wetness fell down on his cheek after winking. "Now that's more like it, pretty boy! Let's make this last attack count, okay?"

After the constant barrage from the three remaining officers... quite a lot of them taken from the unreleased rounds of their deceased comrades' Murata rifles... ceased at last, Amakusa went in for the kill, his sword arm cocked and prepared to behead the indolent Kujo. To his amazement, he found himself confronted with Kamiminochi's Yamazaki, Askikaga, and Heiko.

"Why are you so insistent in digging your own graves? Nevertheless, it doesn't matter anyway. For if we live, we live to the Lord; and if we die, we die to the Lord. Therefore, whether we live or die, we are the Lord's." Amakusa jerked his head, sidestepped, and ducked at the shots fired by Yamazaki and Heiko with practiced ease.

"I couldn't tell, because I've never read your book of white man lies, but I'm willing to bet my life that you're a puppet through and through; spouting off the words of men long dead and not realizing it's just imperialist propaganda!" Askikaga launched himself at Amakusa and attacked from the swordsman's blind side.

The Leader of Nagasaki's Hidden Christians countered by using the same whirlwind-like, random-striking technique he deployed against the hapless Kawashi, Yoshida, and Tanaka.

However, Askikaga held up against the unpredictable onslaught quite well by always striking at awkward angles and keeping Amakusa off-balance. "Let me introduce myself. I am Askikaga Isao of Nagano's Chujo Ryu... the legendary sword style mastered by both Toda Seigen and Sasaki Kojiro! You won't be able to finish me off with just halfhearted strikes, you cultist nut."

Amakusa attempted to shift from using Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu to Nikaido Heiho in order to keep Askikaga from guessing his next move, but he couldn't get enough time or leverage to transition from one style to another thanks to Yamazaki's constant assists with his sniper shots and expert bayonet stabs. Couple that with Heiko's constant rifle fire, and the zealot had no choice but to fall back on using Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu and keep himself on the defensive, which was arguably the weakest aspect of his fighting capabilities.

"HAHAHA! Come at me, bastard! Try and stop me from blasting you full of holes, bitch!" Heiko raged as he continued firing at Amakusa whenever the rebel and Askikaga separated.

Askikaga smirked as he felt his body shiver for some unfathomable reason. "Give it up, Amakusa! Kurogasa's Shin no Ippo... Battousai's Ryu Sou Sen... They cannot possibly compare to Nagano's Chujo Ryu, a sword style that prospered even during a time when the bow and arrow or spear was the norm! The only reason you defeated my big brother was because he had an insufferable hero complex! Otherwise, his technique was impeccable!"

As though in reaction to Askikaga's slip of the tongue, Amakusa sheathed his sword, blocked Yamazaki's strikes, and retreated far away enough to avoid getting blasted by Heiko's gunshots. "Battoujutsu again? Bring it on, you mass murderer!"

"Be careful, Askikaga! I don't want you to end up like those Gunma officers," Yamazaki warned, but then murmured to himself, "Or like Hiramatsu-san."

To everyone's surprise, instead of Amakusa drawing his sword to challenge Askikaga's sword-fighting prowess, he whirled around, tapped his weapon's hand guard with a thumb flick, and let it fly handle-first into Heiko's forehead. The trigger-happy officer got knocked down instantly... a distraction Shogo took advantage of by leaping towards his unsheathed sword, grabbing it, and achieving blurry speeds to finish off his latest quarry.

To Lieutenant Yamazaki's shock, Sergeant Askikaga ran towards Heiko's fallen form, used his saber to block Amakusa's expected Ryu Tsui Sen strike, and protected the downed officer from getting killed while unconscious. The thinner, standard-issue blade could only do so much, so Amakusa's katana ended up cleaving the Chujo Ryu master's left shoulder in a deep, clavicle-cutting diagonal slice.

"Be proud, Askikaga Isao. You're just like your brother-in-law, Hiramatsu; you're both master swordsmen and heroic martyrs to the end," Amakusa deadpanned before he felt Askikaga's trembling hands grab him in a tight embrace.

"NOW, YAMAZAKI! RUN ME AND AMAKUSA THROUGH! AVENGE OUR BROTHERS' DEATHS! AVENGE THE CAPTAIN'S DEATH! AVENGE EVERYONE'S DEATHS IN ONE FELL SWOOP!"

Yamazaki hesitated for about a second... an eternity during circumstances like these... before heeding the Kamiminochi sergeant's death wish and skewering both Askikaga and Amakusa. For the first time since arriving in the Shinshushin Mansion, a lone officer successfully injured Amakusa in a major way.

Alas, although it was only a moment's uncertainty, the Hidden Christian found enough wriggle room to escape Askikaga's grip before getting completely gored by Yamazaki's skilled Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu thrust.

Yamazaki cursed under his breath for not killing Amakusa then and there, his mind telling him over and over, 'Ryuzoji would never have hesitated like that under these circumstances. He's a cold-blooded bastard that got the job done. He's also a raging xenophobe bigot, granted, but he _completes_ his missions,' even though deep down he knew that Ryuzoji himself fell victim to Amakusa six years back, cold-bloodedness or no.

Yamazaki beckoned his right arm to move and aim the spear... he felt it do so... but for some reason, all he had in his grasp was a sliced-off Murata. Upon closer inspection, his face twisted into an unspeakable mess; half of his left forearm, the one gripping the pointed part of his weapon, was missing.

Yamazaki found his severed limb a couple of inches away from his feet, still holding the spear he deployed to finish off the brother of his brother's friend. He proceeded to scream his head off, but more in horror than in agony. Had he already died? He imagined getting an arm dismembered hurt a lot more than this.

Amakusa himself remained in a crouching position, his hand grasping the place where Yamazaki had wounded him. Both Amakusa and Yamazaki were _way_ too injured to finish each other off at that point.

Sooner rather than later, Yamazaki put the chaotic mess that his thoughts had become to order. He knew this would happen, and he had a golden opportunity in his hands to finally get the justice that his brother, his brother's friend, his brother's friend's brother, and their fat friend who became his captain deserved.

He still believed that attacking Nagasaki and slaughtering hundreds of innocent Christians was a mistake, but letting Shogo Amakusa live was an even bigger mistake that needed to be rectified right then and there.

He felt a hand grasp his shoulder. "Lieutenant, can you still fight?" He turned and looked down; Gunma Captain Kujo's determined face greeted him back. He clenched his remaining fist and nodded.

"Let's finish off Amakusa here and now. I've figured out how to beat him and his Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu."

* * *

_Thirty-nine minutes past midnight, in between the guestroom and the balcony of the Shinshushin manor... _

Tetsuo Akahori's eyes bulged out as his nails dug across the floorboard surface. He could hear stridor... a high-pitched whine produced by turbulent airflow from his clogged airways... in each breath of his.

Every breath he took sapped him of his energy, and he had no other choice but to inhale deep yet rapid breaths in order to gather as much oxygen as he could despite his failing respiratory functions. He could barely think, but his awareness allowed him to juggle between two important priorities: staying alive and making sense of his sudden breathing problems.

Akahori found himself in a curious position. Granted, everything that had happened so far was well within his earlier estimations, including all the casualties of the weaker squads. In reality, even though the four Kanto district teams failed to capitalize on finishing off Amakusa while he remained rather hesitant to go all out, Akahori still considered the high amount of damage inflicted on his nemesis as a bonus of sorts.

If the rebel had died then and there, then it only meant that Akahori's theory concerning Amakusa being washed up was true. Missing the chance to kill him immediately was no big loss to the politician because the night was still young and he had a few more tricks up his sleeve.

However, Akahori certainly didn't expect Amakusa to possess the one technique that made the cultist arguably more dangerous than even Makoto Shishio or Kenshin Himura; more to the point, the technique that left the curtain-bearded man suffocating in the middle of a veranda-sporting room even though Amakusa didn't even lay a hand on him.

"Rai Ryu Sen..." Akahori croaked as his eyes reddened and his throat swelled. Yes, the Lightning Dragon Flash... a technique theorized to be the result of combining the closed-quarter capabilities of the Nikaido Heiho with the army-killing proficiency of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.

To be true, the skill could be considered the Flying Heaven Royal Sword Style's version of the Shin no Ippo, except instead of freezing a person in place, it takes away their sight. It fried people so crisply, they snapped like the empty husks of a dead tree.

The image of a dragon glowing with sparks of electricity came forth from the depths of Akahori's consciousness; it electrocuted him while also coiling its body around him like a boa constrictor.

Akahori shook his head to clear it; he could still see fine. The real problem he had involved dank skin with a dreadful pallor to the point of cyanosis, swelling in various regions of his body, watch-glass fingernails, and crackling sounds from his lungs. Regardless, he knew that the bright flash and streaks of lightning he witnessed from Amakusa's shining blade were the earmarks of a successful Rai Ryu Sen.

He'd researched the Kakure Kirishitan's background thoroughly before helping the Japanese Army and National Police form a plan to ethnically cleanse the rebellious religious minority and prevent them from forming an autonomous region policed by their own kind. For example, he knew that Amakusa's father, Tokisada Muto, was a practitioner of Nikaido Heiho. He also discovered that Amakusa's uncle, Hyoue Nishida, was a student of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.

He'd even heard that Amakusa's uncle was the infamous Kirisaki... the Christian swordsman avenger that protected all Hidden Christians from the wrath of the daimyo without once taking the life of any man.

Akahori coughed and grunted, remembering that Shin no Ippo could also be used to suffocate victims if need be; as such, it shouldn't be a stretch of the imagination for the hypnosis-based Rai Ryu Sen to do the same thing. He remembered hearing from the Togakudan that a certain swordsman he knew personally had suffered the full brunt of the perfected version of Shogo Amakusa's signature technique, suffering a lifelong chronic respiratory problem resembling both asthma and tuberculosis.

Then again, Akahori couldn't accept the idea that he had miscalculated Amakusa's current abilities. He shouldn't be able to do the Rai Ryu Sen anymore, much less the more taxing succession techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. There was no way he could've regained his full strength after just six short years of laying low.

Shishio himself needed ten years to _again_ become a threat to the government, and his damaged body couldn't handle more than fifteen minutes of strain. 'You have got to be kidding me. There's no way Amakusa could've recovered enough from the near-death experience he suffered back in the Modern Shimabara War. This is ridiculous..."

Inside Akahori's fevered mind, he saw the image of a bandaged Shishio praying to ancient spirits of evil inside a stone room and in front of a pit of purplish, boiling liquid to revive and turn himself into an all-powerful being; the deceased megalomaniac afterwards received cosmic and spiritual energies beyond mortal ken that undid his wrappings and transformed him into a muscular, blue-skinned, and cackling creature that represented everything that was wrong with the world.

Just as the darkness in the corners of Akahori's vision threatened to shut down his awareness, he felt something prick the underside of his palm. By reflex, his hands retracted as they felt the sharp sting of... something from one section of the floor. The pain jolted him awake, but he still felt too weak and lightheaded to do more than to check out the source of the abrupt stimuli. He smiled a fanged grin; glass. Shards of broken glass everywhere.

At that point, everything clicked. The magician known as Amakusa... the man who used his knowledge of western medicine to trick his followers into thinking that he was some sort of new-age messiah... had almost pulled the wool from under Akahori's eyes. Amakusa's sword glowed only after he took something from under his robe and used his supersonic speed to shatter it open; a glass globe containing certain drugs. Hallucinogens, to be more exact.

Ataxia, incoordination, confusion, delirium, and psychosis; these were the symptoms Akahori neglected to take note of in his vehement attempt to get his breathing back to normal. He'd been flailing all over the place, he couldn't figure out the shards surrounding him were from Amakusa, and he kept going to all sorts of tangents. Speaking of other tangents, he also theorized that Rin herself had been victimized by this new makeshift technique Amakusa developed in order to relive his glory days as a one-man army of sorts.

Even more information flowed into Akahori's head; unfortunately, it had the side effect of hastening his suffocation. 'First thing's first...'

The raspberry-faced Akahori crawled towards his table to get his letter opener inside one of the drawers. Then, without so much as a preparatory gasp, he jabbed the knife straight into his thigh in order to rouse his body from the hypnotic spell of Amakusa's reckless Lightning Dragon Flash.

His constricted lungs ballooned in triumph and relief as he gasped the air he couldn't breathe a second ago. "I was right. Amakusa is a fallen god after all; an archangel with all six of his wings clipped and broken. I may be able to kill a god yet; I can't wait."

* * *

_Forty-five minutes past midnight, at the portion of the yard strewn with dismembered limbs and lifeless bodies... _

Amakusa grit his teeth in frustration. His plan to murder the captains, lieutenants, and sergeants in order to leave the rest of the police in disarray had somehow backfired in the sense that he was forced to expend more effort by actually killing entire squadrons. He'd hoped to keep the bloodshed minimal as possible, but the way certain events conspired against him was beyond his control. 'Indeed, the Lord works in mysterious ways.'

A Kamiminochi lieutenant even managed to stab him in the stomach! According to Morinaga's reports, Shinshushin was supposed to be the weakest team among the four, with Kanagawa, Gunma, and Tokyo way above it in terms of battle experience and law enforcement expertise. Yet here he was, injured by the lieutenant of a low-tier police squad.

Annoyed as he was with the turn of events, he concentrated hard in order to keep his body from going into shock from the loss of blood. After all, he'd gone through far worse than this. He had already triumphed over his personal Calvary, so from that point on, nothing should be able to stop him.

Shogo couldn't do the Hyoki no Jutsu by himself... a self-hypnosis technique reserved only for the successor of the Nikaido Heiho School. Only one man could inherit that skill and the One-Sided Heart succession technique, and that man turned out to be a psychopathic mass murderer.

Amakusa's father, Tokisada, was supposed to replace the crazed Jine Udo as the new inheritor of Nikaido Heiho, but regrettably, he wasn't good enough to carry the mantle of master. The same could be said for his uncle, who didn't have the moxie to kill his own master just to succeed the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.

All the same, Shogo Muto himself... known as Shogo Amakusa nowadays and Shiro Amakusa the Second a good six years back... had somehow found a way to make up for the shortcomings of his two teachers and become the charismatic leader they always wanted him to be. Even though he couldn't use Hyoki no Jutsu the way Kurogasa could, he could still utilize other methods such as quiet meditation and prayer in order to emulate the process and produce roughly the same results; he always found a way.

Because of Amakusa's years of wandering across Asia and Europe, he was able to learn both the esoteric aspects of his faith and the practical applications of medical knowledge. For instance, making use of his fear and anxiety to his advantage through concentration and a keen understanding of how his body worked allowed him to control his acute stress response for his benefit.

At any rate, a more prolonged and powerful release of the locus ceruleus happened inside Amakusa's brain, which in turn activated the sympathetic division of his autonomic nervous system as well as the discharge of epinephrine and norepinephrine from the medulla of the adrenal glands. The increase of adrenaline assisted in making Amakusa's stab wound bleed slower than before because of the chemical's vasoconstrictor properties.

Amakusa opened his eyes and stared at his opponent. During the time he was indisposed, Gunma's Captain Kujo had apparently recovered from his shellshock and had now joined forces with Kamiminochi's Lieutenant Yamazaki in order to produce one last-ditch effort to finish the insurgent off.

From the looks of things, Kujo had finished tying the bayoneted rifle over Yamazaki's severed arm so that the lieutenant could still fight even with a missing limb. Such a pity; Amakusa had nothing but respect for these men who had proven their worth by simply lasting this long against him. It was such a pity indeed.

"I have no quarrel with either of you, although I realize the feeling isn't mutual. However, I cannot allow you to kill me. I still have much to do. Rest assured that your deaths will not be meaningless. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

"Are none of your words your own? Must you prattle along with moral lessons that don't reflect your own actions? I have no problem with Christianity itself, but I certainly cannot allow Christians like you to sully the good name of your faith," Captain Kujo remarked with uncharacteristic malice... a stark contrast to the loving, fatherly captain that just witnessed his supposed sons get killed in three rapid eye blinks.

Amakusa's eyes narrowed as Kujo fell into position; the height-challenged commander had a similar ready stance that the problematic Askikaga used a while ago.

'Another Chujo Ryu practitioner? No, actually, this is Ono-Ha Itto Ryu. Well, as soon as he starts attacking and gains momentum, he'll prove to be a problem. Nevertheless, I think they want to force me to use my double battoujutsu so that they could counter it. Interesting.'

Amakusa sheathed his sword, his trembling extremities and pain-wracked body signaling that he hadn't yet recovered from Yamazaki's assault. 'The Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki is out of the question, especially since there are still two more police units out there, and I have to deal with two opponents at the same time. It's an overkill technique that's impractical for the situation.'

Before Amakusa could ponder his possible courses of action any further, the one-handed Lieutenant Yamazaki had already charged, stabbing away with his bayonet in reckless abandon. In the heat of the battle, the Christian mass murderer made his decision on how to fight then and there.

Captain Kujo moved as soon as he saw Amakusa take hold of the hilt of his sword in preparation of doing a sword-drawing strike. He parried the blade perfectly while Yamazaki himself ducked in order to anticipate the follow-up sheath strike. The Ono-Ha Itto Ryu could withstand and counter any sword strike imaginable because it was arguably the Father of Modern Kenjutsu.

The technique that killed five of his officers in two strikes burned itself into the Gunma captain's irises; a withdrawn blade strike followed by a scabbard cut that somehow sliced Lieutenant Teraku Kimura open from underneath his crotch to the top of his head. It must've been an abnormally sharp and bladed sheath to be able to do that, Kujo reckoned.

However, the second scabbard attack from below never materialized. Kujo looked down; his blade was actually blocking a metallic black sheath with a sharp edge instead of an unsheathed blade. Also, Amakusa was already in mid-pirouette before the captain noticed that something was amiss. This was not the Sou Ryu Sen; it was instead the Sou Ryu Sen Ikazuchi.

The flying apparitions of Captain Kujo's deceased men... Lieutenant Teraku Kimura, Sergeant Souta Watanabe, Officers Toshi Konno, Shou Yoshida, and Ryozo Ito... all smilingly waved at him with transparent bodies and wisps-for-legs as his decapitated scalp flew into the night sky; even the oldest style of Itto Ryu could only do so much if ever the swordsman himself failed to properly anticipate his enemy's next move.

Even in the face of tragedy, the tear-filled Lieutenant Yamazaki soldiered on by aiming his bayonet straight at Amakusa's head before the rebel could follow through his attack. He then felt both his arms cleaved right off of his shoulders at the same time care of the redhead's smooth transition from Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu to Nikaido Heiho.

As the armless Yamazaki fell on his knees and bemoaned his fate, his conqueror also kneeled down and did what he'd been meaning to do but couldn't because he kept getting interrupted; he prayed for the dead and dying.

"For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not anything, neither have they anymore a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten. Also their love, and their hatred, and their envy, is now perished; neither have they anymore a portion forever in anything that is done under the sun."

"You crazy cross worshipper! Stop praying! It won't bring them back! It won't do a damn thing! Do you feel guilty about what you're doing? You said something like that a while back. I heard it. Well then, STOP!"

The disoriented lieutenant's vision swam as the sticky fountain of his own bodily fluids pooled all around him, his skin getting clammier and whiter by the second.

"Why do you keep on doing this? If you really wanted to repent for all your horrible sins, then why are you making things worse for you and your kind?"

Amakusa slumped his shoulders and sighed. "I told you earlier. You should have gotten out of my way. You only have yourselves to blame at this point."

"FUCK YOU! You killed my brother! You killed his friend! Captain Nakayama witnessed it all, and he has devoted his life to getting even with you! To think that I actually said that they were wrong about what happened in Shimabara... that it was a massacre that shouldn't have happened! But then I realized it was all _your_ fault that innocent Japanese were killed in the first place!"

Amakusa paused for a couple of seconds before mentioning, "So you're the little stepbrother of Captain Ryuzoji Takuya, huh? After fighting against you and learning that you share the same style as him, I think I at last remember what happened to him all those years ago."

Yamazaki blanched. "As if I want to hear how you murdered my brother in cold blood! Leave me be to die; I don't want to hear any of your grisly stories, you fucking serial killer. We demanded justice, and you took it away from us. If you really are a Christian, then you'd confess to your crimes and turn yourself in. Even at this point, your life isn't enough to pay for the lives you've ended. If you can't understand that, then you really are a monster."

"The reason why Captain Nakayama... back then, Sergeant Nakayama... wanted so badly to kill me was because of his guilt. You see, I've seen that formation of yours before. It was a specialty of Captain Yamazaki's troops, I believe. Sergeant Nakayama was supposed to cover Lieutenant Hiramatsu with his sword skills while your older stepbrother went in for the kill. However, he froze up when he met me. He even pissed on himself. He was so scared."

"Shut up."

"It could have been because of my Nikaido Heiho training or because he lacked intestinal fortitude; whatever the reason, he ran away. I jumped at the chance and killed Hiramatsu before he could fire a shot. I didn't know he had a wife. I'm sorry. Then again, I'm also sorry for all the other widows I've made that day."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Nakayama desperately pleaded for his life, begged, soiled himself, and swore up and down that he'll do anything to save his own hide. Disgusted as I was, I attempted to end his misery, but then here comes Captain Ryuzoji. He had few words to spare, but that spearing technique of his truly was superb. Even superior to yours, actually, since he needed no assistance to land his shots against me."

"Shut up! Shut UP!"

"In fact, he should've used a spear because a mere saber isn't suited for the job. He fought bravely even though Nakayama seemed hardly worth the effort. I had to resort to cutting him limb from limb, just like with you. Come to think of it, he may have been protecting Nakayama with you in mind; a little stepbrother he'd never let die, no matter what."

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Foaming in the mouth, Yamazaki charged and kicked at Amakusa's direction comically... ineffectually... embarrassingly... before collapsing in a heap of torn flesh and disillusionment.

Amakusa knelt down beside Yamazaki again and continued. "They also spoke of white man lies and their unreasoning hatred towards my faith and my people. I pitied them for their narrow-minded beliefs, but I can't ignore the fact that they did what they did for noble, if misguided purposes... for what it's worth."

"...Kill me. Please. I can't even kill myself now and die an honorable death." Even if Amakusa didn't honor his request, Lieutenant Yamazaki's foot was already wedged inside death's door anyway.

"Yes. I think it is better this way. Suicide is a sin. Let me take responsibility for that sin you shouldn't commit so that you may ultimately rest in peace."

Amakusa got up and decapitated the one policeman that wounded him gravely before doing the sign of the cross and praying for the recently deceased, his one eye left open just in case any other officers decided to interrupt his prayers.

* * *

_Twenty years ago, around the time the Shinsengumi-sponsored slaughter at the Ikedaya Inn happened, a fourteen-year-old Kenshin Himura had already met Tomoe Yukishiro, and Amakusa himself was just a mere eleven years of age... _

During the bakufu's reign, the nationwide anti-foreigner sentiment went well with the similar anti-Christian one they helped foster for the simple fact that Christianity was considered as just another imperialist tool that foreign powers could use to subjugate Japan like the rest of the world. Then again, the Christian-related fears of the leaders of Tokugawa-era Japan weren't unfounded; after all, Spain's religion-based expeditions to countries like Mexico and the Philippines paid huge dividends for the nineteenth-century superpower in the end.

The pride, honor, conceit, and isolationalism of the Japanese people were eventually broken thanks to the forceful arrival of Commodore Matthew Perry's black ships, so anti-Christian movements went at an all-time high at that point. The shogunate was all too eager to save face and bury that embarrassing show of weakness six feet under by destroying everything that was connected to these outsiders, Christianity included.

During this deplorable era, a young Shogo Muto... the boy who would ultimately become Shogo Amakusa... and his baby sister Sayo... the girl who would later become Lady Magdalia... were currently witnessing the indiscriminate genocide of their peace-loving people simply because of their foreigner-linked faith.

The man they knew as their father, Tokisada Muto... a practitioner of Nikaido Heiho and yet another man who was also named after the legendary Christian rebel of yore... had just managed to summon a Shin no Ippo straight from the bottom of his heart once the bakufu samurai began raiding his very home, freezing all his enemies into place with his kenki in order to give his wife and two children the chance to escape. He considered it a miracle sent by God himself that helped him get past his own human limitations in order to do something extraordinary.

To his son, Tokisada called out, "Shogo, be strong... like God. Become Emmanuel, so that through you, God will always be with our people. Someday, you must come back to Shimabara and protect our people from their oppressors."

That was the first and last time he could ever use such a move, and even though he suffocated and killed outright quite a lot of the petrified shogunate forces before him, he eventually became too spent to fight back once his One-Sided Heart wore off. He was thusly stabbed to death in order to keep his body intact before it was stripped naked save for its undergarments and left to hang on a wooden cross the day after.

Tsuruyo Muto and her two children fled to the caverns that their people had used for centuries-on-end as makeshift churches of sorts in order to rendezvous with the children's uncle, an old swordsman by the name of Hyoue Nishida.

The old man had been protecting Kakure Kirishitan sanctuaries for many decades under the guise of "Kirisaki", the great Christian savior who wouldn't kill, until he retired at age forty, but he had no choice but to come out of retirement and continue his revolution once more thanks to the renewed anti-foreigner sentiment caused by Commodore Perry's arrival in 1853 and the start of the rebellion against the dishonored shogunate.

* * *

_Forty-six minutes past midnight, at the portion of the yard strewn with dismembered limbs and lifeless bodies... _

Yahiko stared at the scattered corpses, speechless at what he had just overheard, frozen to inaction by either Amakusa's intimidating presence or his own bitter-tasting guilt.

The bungling yet flippant attitude he thought the Kamiminochi District had was born out of his own inexperience, arrogance, and ignorance. He blamed them for mishandling the fake Battousai Group case three weeks ago, not realizing that they were too busy actually preparing for the _real_ Battousai Group in the meantime. They were seeking justice and closure, after all.

They weren't rent-a-cop fakers who jockeyed for better positions in the government; they were heroes. They had names, dreams, motivations, and hopes that were shattered by a zealot extremist who himself had all the same goals, yet he still came off as an incorrigible beast because of his unwillingness to apply his inconvenient convictions on his illogical actions.

Most importantly, Yahiko was there because of his consistent failure to keep his promise to Kenshin. Out of the fifty-five people here excluding Akahori and that daughter of his that Soujiro rescued, two whole units had just been completely wiped out, and countless other officers had been finished off. There were no words to how monumental a failure he ended up becoming. 'How many more lives must end before I act?'

Resisting his body's reflexive queasiness, Yahiko looked straight at Captain Nakayama's remains and saluted at him. Afterwards, he gathered his courage to face this rebel that could probably give even the Juppon Gatana or the Five Comrades a run for their money in terms of police fatalities.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **The rebellious history.

_In my humble opinion, the amount of research and detail found in the underrated filler episodes of the Shimabara Arc of the Rurouni Kenshin anime was superb. For example, there really was a solar eclipse in Japan around 1878. However, because the writers forgot that RK is an action series with character-driven subplots, that filler arc ended up merely decent, not superb._

**Nasaan ang panginoon mo ngayon?_  
_**Abdiel


	19. Chapter 19

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_As the last chapter showed, even cannon fodder policemen will get a chance at the limelight in this fan fiction series._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Sony. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 19: The Hidden Christians **

* * *

_Twenty years ago, around the time the Shinsengumi-sponsored slaughter at the Ikedaya Inn happened, a fourteen-year-old Kenshin Himura had already met Tomoe Yukishiro, and Amakusa himself was just a mere eleven years of age... _

"Mommy, I'm scared. When will Daddy catch up?" a six-year-old Sayo Muto asked her frazzled mother as they went through the complex tunnels that lead to clandestine churches built by their ancestors many centuries ago.

"Daddy... will catch up soon, don't you worry," came Tsuruyo Muto's white lie (and half-truth) as she prayed to all the saints and martyrs she knew to somehow help her and her surviving family members from falling into the hands of their persecutors. "I want you to stay strong, Sayo. I want you to grow up to be a beautiful lady who'll serve as an inspiration to all your fellow Christian brethren."

Sayo's eyes and eyebrows crossed as she pouted at her mother. "I don't know what inspi... what that word means, Mommy."

Tsuruyo resisted the urge to laugh, cry, or both because the echoes she'd be making would probably alert the shogunate's samurais of their location. "Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart. As long as you pray to God and Jesus, no harm will come to us." Another lie.

At that point, the silent Shogo Muto grabbed hold of Sayo's tiny hands and pledged, "Don't worry, Sayo. Whatever happens, I'll protect you and Mother. It's a promise."

Any further questions by the children were hushed by their mother's terrible, intermittent cough that they could do nothing about. Eventually, in the middle of her coughing fits, she gave her medallion to her daughter and told her to support her brother, while she told her son, "Shogo, you are a child who will someday become the leader of men. Forget your insignificant pity for me and become the light of hope that Shimabara deserves."

"Don't talk like that, Mother! I _will_ become the light of hope of Shimabara with you and Sayo by my side! We'll make it out of here together, okay?" Shogo chided with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, but his mother wouldn't respond to his plea.

The three afterwards heard footsteps, which prompted them to hurry up and go outside the cave... a rocky place surrounded by the large, crashing waves of the sea. The calmer waters were a few yards away, so Tsuruyo had to carry Sayo on one arm while pulling Shogo with her other arm as she crossed the narrow, puddle-filled ledge leading towards the accepted meeting place that she and her children's uncle, Hyoue Nishida, agreed upon.

Once they reached their destination, they waited for a bit, looking over their shoulders the whole time for enemy samurais. The stress and effort it took to lead the children to safety had taken its toll on Tsuruyo's tuberculosis, so her children were forced to watch her suffocate while waiting for their one chance at salvation.

Soon, Hyoue... a hook-nosed, pinkish-skinned, and blue-eyed old man that looked nothing like the old men they knew around town... arrived on a boat while a large ship that bore coat of arms that resembled a budding flower or fountain pen tip wrapped around an intertwined number eight remained offshore at a considerable distance.

Then, right at the moment when the excitable Sayo ran towards her beloved uncle, the one true savior of herself and her family... her chubby little hands grabbing hold of both her big brother and her mother as they struggled to keep up with her... Tsuruyo pushed the two kids away from out of the blue and screamed, "Run to your uncle now! Don't look back! Don't worry about me!"

"...Mommy?" Sayo turned, wondering why their mother had pushed them away, but Shogo shielded her eyes from seeing what happened next.

"Mother! NOOO!" A muscular samurai that looked more beast than man instructed his two underlings to stab Tsuruyo to death just after he himself skewered the hapless woman straight in the chest. Before Shogo's impetuousness made him see red, lose all reason, and charge at his parent's murderers come what may, he felt a gust of wind that was hurricane-like in its power burst forth from the boat where Hyoue stayed.

"Mommy! MOMMY!" Sayo cried like a baby as she removed her brother's hand off of her face and saw something that no child should ever bear witness to.

"TSURUYO!" Shogo had never seen anyone move so fast. In fact, unless his eyes and mind had betrayed him because of the trauma he'd just suffered, he could've sworn his Uncle Hyoue had just sprinted through the surface of the seawater from his boat even before making it to shore.

With tears in his eyes and rage tempered with unbelievable self-control, Hyoue made quick work out of the three bakufu men during the time it took for a fly to flap its wings. A rain of blood spread everywhere as Hyoue dropped to his knees and howled for the death of his departed sister. Then, to Shogo's shock, the shogunate warriors whom the all-powerful swordsman had just vanquished began to move and twitch.

"Uncle! Uncle Hyoue! Please, finish the samurais off! They're still alive!" Shogo found himself saying while holding his trembling, bawling sister in a tight embrace.

After reciting the deceased Lady Muto's Last Rites and doing the sign of the cross, Hyoue left Tsuruyo's body on the ground and instructed both Shogo and Sayo to stay there while he fetched the boat that he left at sea when he did his impromptu dash to save Tsuruyo and her children.

Shogo would have none of that, of course. "Why won't you just kill them? They just killed our mother! Please, kill him now, so that Mother can rest in peace!" Upon hearing her brother's confirmation that their mother was indeed dead, Sayo wailed even harder.

Hyoue took the six year old in his arms and comforted her, saying, "Your mother is already in a better place, Sayo. She's in heaven. She won't have to suffer ever again."

"Is she with Daddy now?"

Hyoue's grip on Sayo briefly tightened before he set her down and let her go. "Yes. Yes... s-she's with Tokisada-kun now."

The largest man of the three samurais regained consciousness and called out to Hyoue, "K-Kirisaki? You're Kirisaki the Hidden Christian Avenger, aren't you? The swordsman who would not kill; I couldn't recognize you without your tinted glasses and hobo-like outfit." He sniggered a guttural, hideous noise. "You've humiliated me and my men many years ago. You saved a lot of Kakure Kirishitan back in the day!"

Hyoue turned and sped back into the offshore boat, ignoring the words of the heavily slashed and wounded man. Without Hyoue to talk to, the mountain of a warrior turned towards Shogo and informed, "I'm Nakahara Ryu. I was one of the bakufu's top samurais, but I got endlessly humiliated by your uncle over there, so I was also continuously demoted for failing to capture any Kakure Kirishitan for my daimyo. However, once he retired, I was able to cur favor to the new daimyo, to the point that I'm now one of the samurais that led this weeding out of your people and your white man's propaganda of a faith."

Shogo was just about to take matters into his own hands by picking up the talkative man's discarded sword and using it to decapitate him when Hyoue at last returned, carried Sayo on his back, and grabbed hold of the last Muto son before he did anything rash.

"Even during your greatest failure to save your people, you still hold on to your selfish morals at the cost of the lives of the people you protect! Why won't you finish me off now? Why didn't you kill any of us back then?"

Shogo gave his uncle an accusing glare even as they reached their boat and got on it. "Is that true? You've met this man many years ago, and even now that he has killed all those you were supposed to protect, you couldn't bring yourself to finish him off?"

"I... can't." Hyoue's face remained imperturbable as he resisted the feelings that bubbled underneath his skin from reaching the surface. "I... just can't. It's wrong. It's against everything I stand up for, and it won't help in bringing back your mother anyway."

"Who cares about what's wrong or right at this point? You're not just going to let him get away with his crimes and have him kill another mother! Or father. Would you even care if he killed us instead?"

"Please, brother! Stop fighting with uncle! Mommy is in heaven now!" Sayo pleaded, and Shogo couldn't bring himself to tell her how much of a load of tripe he thought that excuse was. "Mommy told us to be strong so that when we grow up, we can stop this from happening again."

The injured gorilla man had somehow gotten up to his feet as he derided, "You're weak, Kirisaki! Even after I've killed the woman you love, you still couldn't finish me off! Is your arbitrary faith more important than seeking justice for the fallen? You really won't kill even if it's your only choice to save lives? Look out at the cliffs above this shore... look at them and realize that all your past efforts were for nothing! NOTHING!"

As they moved on further away from shore, they saw the cliff Nakahara had referred to; a whole rock face full of crucified Hidden Christians who were stripped naked of their clothes and hung out in a place where they could serve as an example to other Kakure Kirishitan that dared practice their faith.

"Killing is never the answer. It's a terrible thing when you kill a man. You take away everything he has and everything he's ever going to have," Hyoue struggled to explain to the completely flabbergasted Shogo. "When you grow up, you'll understand."

Then again, Shogo never did. Later on, the young prodigy would learn that even when it came to mastering the final succession technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, Hyoue didn't have the bravery or determination to set aside his morals and kill his master for the sake of attaining power beyond peer.

* * *

_An hour past midnight, near the gunpowder-reeking crater where the Armstrong cannon lay... _

Amakusa jerked his head back... a savage movement... his eyes wide and aflame with miniature red lighting bolts after he saw the severed head of Sergeant Yukito Kazunari fly right at his face. His fiery glare then transformed into a stunned expression of horror. By instinct, he cut the head in half like a coconut; once his tunnel vision faded, it dawned to him that Ujiki used the sergeant's remains as a distraction to get the Armstrong cannon.

"Are you wondering why your rebellion failed even though you're strong enough to murder a thousand men? This is the reason why; you've betrayed your convictions and became one of the monsters you've sworn to destroy," Ujiki mocked before firing the cannon right at the aghast and thunderstruck Amakusa.

By pure reflex, Amakusa sheathed his sword and unsheathed it at supersonic speed to cut the projectile apart. He subsequently leapt up before any of the exploding shrapnel could tear him apart; however, as evidenced by his numerous lacerations, he didn't get away from the sudden cannon shot unscathed.

"Silly Christian; religion is the barrier to truth and understanding. Case in point: YOU!" Ujiki quipped before jumping away from the singed and bleeding Amakusa's Ryu Tsui Sen strike at the rifled breach loader itself, cutting it in half.

Before Amakusa could set himself upright, Captain Ujiki had already stabbed right into the wound that Kamiminochi Lieutenant Yamazaki had to sacrifice life and limb just to create, the saber's tip reaching all the way through the cultist's back.

Before the Christian could counterattack, Ujiki had by then kicked him away into one of the sliced halves of the cannon, his wounded abdomen hitting the jagged edges of the halved firearm hard. For the first time, Shogo howled like an animal; it had been years since he experienced pain such as this.

"What's the matter? Doesn't the good book have other things to say about this situation? I'm sure if you can rummage through your brain, you can think of a barely related quote to spout out," Ujiki taunted as he sidestepped the expected Dou Ryu Sen, then countered the Sou Ryu Sen hard enough to knock the sheath off of Amakusa's trembling hands.

"Whoops. No sheathe? Then I guess battoujutsu is out of the question. I don't suppose you're going to try out that Rai Ryu Sen bullshit I've been hearing about; then again, you're so injured that I doubt you can even jump anymore."

Amakusa just glared at Ujiki before falling into the traditional kenjutsu ready stance. "Is that it? Is that all you've got? If you want to finish me off, then you better come at me with a whole army. Anything short of that is a waste of time."

Ujiki felt his sweat grow cold upon hearing those words. 'Shit. Is he going to do one of his stronger Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu techniques now? The ones that finished off villains like Shishio Makoto? No, he's got to be bluffing. He's too battered and torn to do anything like that!'

To Amakusa, Ujiki harrumphed. "Yeah, right. Blow it out your ass. After I'm through with you, I'll be off to kick sick old Battousai's ass and declare myself the Strongest Swordsman of Japan!"

To Ujiki's incredulity and relief, Amakusa's supposed Kuzu Ryu Sen turned out to be nothing more than the opening-ridden Ryu Tsui Sen. Taking a page out of the infamous Goro "Saito" Fujita's handbook on defeating Battousai, the Tokyo Captain attempted to use the Jigen Ryu equivalent of the Gatotsu Sanshiki.

To his dismay, his hesitation afforded Amakusa enough leeway to twirl himself away from the counterstrike just as it was about to hit. At that point, Ujiki was treated to the strange sensation of seeing half of his body fall off along with part of his head while the rest of him collapsed in another direction, a menagerie of guts, blood, organs, and entrails spraying the landscape.

Amakusa looked on at Ujiki's gasping "heads" and rolling eyes, mildly surprised that the man was still alive for a few more minutes. "I apologize. I cannot come up with a better rebuttal than this. You've won your little debate. I have been forced to bear the unforgivable sins of many for the sake of my people's salvation. Now please, go rest in peace."

The redheaded warrior then collapsed, completely spent by his efforts.

* * *

_An hour and five minutes past midnight, behind the closed doors of the mansion's main entrance... _

"I just got some bad news from some of the Togakudan, men. Amakusa had just killed Captain Ujiki," Kanagawa District Police Lieutenant Yusuke Nishimura relayed to the remaining five officers he had on hand. "What do you think, Sarge?"

Sergeant Satoru Sakaguchi shook his head and said, "I say we need to join forces with the remaining Tokyo troops and head him off from the inside of the mansion, where we're nearer the ammunition. Who's left in charge of the Tokyo troop?"

Lieutenant Nishimura turned towards the Togakudan who reported to him and asked the same question. The owlish Taku Okazaki answered, "Well, all three senior officers of the Tokyo Squad... Captain Ujiki, Lieutenant Iino, and Sergeant Kazunari... are now dead. One of their officers is down, one of them ran away, and five of them are still able to fight."

Nishimura then chimed, "We're roughly in the same situation. I'm guessing Amakusa is picking us off methodically, which is why we have more or less the same amount of officers left. Also, because you and I are the commanding officers of this troop, we're the prime targets of this madman."

At that point, Sergeant Sakaguchi opted to distract himself by helping out the other Togakudan members present... a plump individual named Obata and a reed-thin person with a bowl cut named Minamoto... with bandaging the wounded Kanagawa officers. Inside the mansion, a makeshift sick bay had been created to house the injured or knocked down policemen. The munitions room housing extra Murata rifles and bullets was just across the hall as well.

Okazaki took out a piece of paper and took down some notes with what looked like a self-inking pen. "Er, I need to go and update the survivors of the Tokyo, Gunma, and Kamiminochi squads... well, maybe not Kamiminochi and Gunma... about your situation. Can you tell me how many members you have left and what happened to the rest of your members?"

Lieutenant Nishimura's eyes darted back and forth the room before he exhaled and informed the Togakudan everything he needed to know. Someone in the background cleared his throat, while the sergeant made it a point to keep his back turned from both the lieutenant and the Togakudan spy.

"I see. Two casualties, one officer down, one ran away, six battle-ready officers. I'll make my report right away. Thank you, lieutenant." They exchanged bows and salutes, and the Togakudan was off.

A few moments later, the familiar crackle of continuous rifle fire echoed across the compound, immediately followed by the recognizable explosion of Amakusa's Dou Ryu Sen earth blast.

Nishimura shut his eyes in seeming deliberation before calling out, "Sakaguchi, Dankichi, Sugiura, Matsura, and Michishige: Reload your rifles and start moving out in five minutes. We'll meet up with the remaining Tokyo troopers and join forces with them. Hopefully, Amakusa has spent all his energy by this time, and we'll be able to apprehend him once and for all."

Without any further ceremony or contestation, the Kanagawa officers obeyed their lieutenant's command. On one of the futons, the gunshot-wounded Officer Ishimaru apologized profusely to his teammates for not being in good enough shape to fight, the others immediately reassuring him that it wasn't that big of a deal.

Amidst the air of camaraderie between the Kanagawa officers, another victim of friendly fire from the Gunma unit named Yo Aburakoji remarked, "You're lucky to be able to apologize to your fellow officers, since my unit had nearly been wiped out while the rest ran away like cowards," which quickly silenced them all.

Tokyo Officer Naoki Nakajima, a man with his left eye bandaged and his right arm in a tourniquet, couldn't help but guffaw at the insinuation, although he mostly laughed alone.

While this happened, Nishimura grabbed hold of the distracted Sergeant Sakaguchi and asked, "Are you okay? I mean, you and Captain Yamada... I'm sorry. I... have no other words."

Sakaguchi gave his senior officer a wan smile. "Yes. We go way back. He was a great man and a brilliant tactician. A decade ago, he and I were in the same company as another great man who taught Yamada everything he knew about strategy and the art of war. But then again, since this is _Amakusa_ we're going up against, we should've expected this from the start."

Satoru took of his cap, brushed his hair back, and put his cap back on. "I shouldn't have argued with my wife after just getting back here in my hometown. It must have upset my daughter so much too. It was such a silly argument, fighting over the gender of an androgynous rooster and the food tab of some homeless criminal..."

"Now don't talk as if you're never going to see your family again! Say something like that once more, and I'll slap the taste out of your mouth!" came the Kanagawa lieutenant's rebuke, which came off as more chiding than harsh thanks to his wispy tone of voice. "We're going to get through this. We won't be able to do anything about those who have already passed away, but we can certainly do something about our present circumstances!"

Just then, the officers heard thunderous footsteps from outside the manor followed by rapid beatings on the front door. "Who's there?" Officer Atsushi Dankichi demanded without thinking as he wielded his bayonet-equipped Murata rifle in firing position.

"It's us! The Tokyo squad! Open up! We're here so we can reload; we've run out of ammo trying to keep Amakusa off of us!" came the muffled shout of one of the officers outside the mansion entrance. Figuring that had it been Amakusa just outside those doors, he would've burst in unceremoniously and shredded everything in his path without so much as an announcement of his presence, the Kanagawa lieutenant motioned his men to put their guns down and let the Tokyo officers in.

Just as the Togakudan reported, there were only five surviving Tokyo police left on the field, the rest of them either bedridden, dead, or fleeing to a safer place. Or rather, six officers... one of them, a melancholic policeman that couldn't be any older than nineteen (but was actually twenty-five years old), carrying by piggyback a pint-sized twerp of an officer with a severely bleeding head.

Immediately, the Kanagawa lieutenant and sergeant motioned the officers to give way to the young-looking Tokyo policeman in order to get the unconscious man to the nearest futon.

"Holy shit, it's Heiko from Kamiminochi! Is he dead? I heard from some Togakudan spy that the Gunma squad and the Kamiminochi squad were battling it out against Amakusa _together_ before being eradicated! What happened to the others?" the hopeful Aburakoji questioned the youngish lad before wincing in pain and getting back to his bed.

"No, he's okay. He's only unconscious; he's still breathing. I'm not sure if I should've moved him, though... b-because of his head injury... but he didn't look safe out there." The officer wiped his sweaty eyebrow and shuddered visibly. "The others... Well, I couldn't carry any of the others, I'm sorry to say."

The wide-eyed Aburakoji could only stare and slowly sink into his padded mattress's covers as he nodded in acceptance, his head bowed down as his stare lingered at the slumbering Ren Heiko. "What's your name, kid?

The officer bowed. "Kosaburo. Shinichi Kosaburo. And you are?"

Aburakoji bowed back and introduced himself. "You're a good kid, Kosaburo-kun. Thanks."

The one-eyed Nakajima grinned and hit Kosaburo's shoulder with a playful punch. "You're still alive, kid! I thought you'd be the first one to die out there."

Kosaburo choked out what could barely be called a chuckle along his grim-reaper-like colleague; he couldn't look him in the eye the entire time. "Maybe I should've, Nakajima-sempai. Maybe I should've."

"What's happening out there, officer? Where's Amakusa?" Nishimura asked Kosaburo after the young policeman delivered Heiko to the Togakudan medics.

Kosaburo gulped and saluted. "We managed to keep Amakusa at bay with suppressive fire and cycle loading; I even helped my sergeant in predicting the rebel's techniques and movements."

He licked his lips. "However, he figured out our modus operandi and eliminated both of our commanding officers. Then again, before the massacre started, both the sergeant and lieutenant told us to join forces with any surviving squads, so we used up our rounds to keep Amakusa from following us back to the sick bay and munitions room near this entrance."

"We couldn't reload either," interjected the wizened, grandfather-like Officer Taiki Sagami as he pushed Kosaburo aside to talk to Lieutenant Nishimura. "The Togakudan have also disappeared. Looks like Amakusa is now targeting both the police and the spies this time around to keep them from mobilizing or being informed of the situation. I don't understand it; he's killing people so fast, it's like he's at two places at the same time. It's crazy."

"The old man is right. We've been betrayed by one of our own; or perhaps even by one of the Togakudan themselves," came another interruption, this time from the brusque, plus-sized officer by the name of Tadayoshi Nakamura; however, the actually twenty-something Sagami took offense from the gruff insult and hit Nakamura on the noggin.

While the horseplay between Sagami and Nakamura went on, Officer Amon Saruwatari added, "Before our captain passed away, he already had suspicions that there's a traitor in our midst. Amakusa was somehow able to pinpoint who's who and even knew some of our backgrounds. It's no wonder we've had such a tough time dealing with him, even with Akahori's instructions to play mind games with him and his peace-loving religion. That motherfucker is like some sort of killing machine. I couldn't believe it!"

Lieutenant Nishimura nodded. "Fine. You can reload your Murata rifles from inside this mansion via the munitions room. It may be a good idea to bunker here while we think of a better strategy to deal with Amakusa."

Just then, a tanned policeman with a swagger usually reserved for senior officers entered the fray. "Now hold on just a minute there, Mister Lieutenant from _Kanagawa_. Am I hearing you correctly? Are you _ordering_ us to get our rifles reloaded?" He would've wagged his right pointer finger, but he lost it during the initial stages of Amakusa's assault. "No, no, no. If there's anyone who's going to be in charge, it'd be someone from the _Tokyo_ troop."

"But you don't have any commanding officers left, you asshole," the temperamental, Heiko-sized Officer Yukio Sugiura rebutted, which soon followed the murmurs of support from the rest of the Kanagawa squad.

"I don't care! I'd rather get chopped into pieces by that Christian lunatic than let some Kanagawa yokel dictate to me what I could or couldn't do!" the man who started the argument... Officer Wataru Tadashi... made his position on the chain of command clear and in no uncertain terms. Predictably, the Tokyo contingent cheered the rambunctious Tadashi on without question.

* * *

While Nishimura talked to the surviving Tokyo troopers, Sergeant Sakaguchi approached the seemingly tossed-aside Officer Kosaburo and greeted him with, "Hey. You're that Myojin boy's friend, aren't you? I saw you talking to him earlier on, during Akahori-san's briefing."

Kosaburo blinked and laughed. "Ah, yes. You also know who Yahiko-kun is? He's my kendo master back in Tokyo. He may not look like much, but he's pretty handy with the sword, and he has no sense of fear." The young adult officer fondly remembered the first time he met Yahiko, battling a veritable giant with a mouth reminiscent of a whale's.

"Seriously?" Satoru laughed out loud. Essentially, he _did_ believe Kosaburo's claims; if what his daughter, Kyoko, and their family friend, Chizuru, told him was true (about Yahiko Myojin facing off against Soujiro Seta in a _swordfight_), then there was no doubt about it. "That's some 'master' you got there."

"Well, he's only coadjutant master; the real master of the school describes him as someone who's too stupid to understand or feel fear."

Kosaburo's smile faded as the memory of Sergeant Kazunari's head flying off of his shoulders haunted his consciousness. 'Although I doubt even someone like Yahiko-kun could have possibly done much against that monster of a man. Hell, I'm not even sure if Kenshin-san himself could've matched up against Amakusa, but then again, his days as the Hitokiri Battousai are already way behind him.'

"You look like a wreck, son. What happened out there?" Sakaguchi asked the downtrodden Kosaburo as he slung a supportive arm over the younger man's shoulders.

Kosaburo had a disturbed expression as he stared at the five remaining Kanagawa district officers while they huddled around four of his teammates for some reason; they were probably doing some intense planning sessions or something. "The same thing that happened to all of you too, I'm afraid."

"Ah." Satoru propped his back against a nearby wall and sat down on the floor. He then motioned Kosaburo to sit beside him by patting the space to his left.

"To tell you the truth, losing someone never does get easier, although time does heal all wounds. Surprisingly, I'm kind of desensitized by these events thanks to my previous experience fighting Amakusa. At this point, he has become like some sort of disastrous plague to me and my loved ones. I would've never gotten back on my feet without Akahori-san's help and his connections, let me tell you."

"What happened six years ago, if you don't mind my asking?" Kosaburo ventured. "Even though Captain Ujiki himself never did have anything to do with the Modern Shimabara War, both Lieutenant Iino and Sergeant..." He swallowed the feeling of wetness in his throat. "Both of my two immediate superiors lost a lot of friends and relatives back in Shimabara."

"I had a captain that I lost during the Shimabara mission. Actually, I've now lost _two_ of them. Because I didn't have the skill to carry on the school my father had built and he had to pass his blacksmith and swordsmanship knowledge to someone much worthier than myself, I grew up very insecure. Luckily, there was a man who believed in me; a brusque neighbor of mine named Nakahara-san."

Satoru puffed his chest out and beat it like a drum, much to Kosaburo's bemused amusement. "He's a man's man that went on all sorts of missions during his time as part of the Tokugawa regimes' samurai and as a commanding officer of the National Police. He's built like a gorilla and he even had these cool, crisscrossing scars! He's the one who inspired me to become part of the National Police!"

"Oh." Kosaburo struggled to find words of comfort similar to what Sakaguchi provided him, but failed. All he could come with was, "I never realized the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu was such a terrible technique. The first time I saw someone use it, I was completely awestruck. But now that I've at last witnessed its horridness, I understand why that man never wanted to pass it on to anyone else, even Yahiko-kun."

Kosaburo turned and quickly realized that he said the exact wrong thing; the face that Satoru Sakaguchi made then and there could've turned even Enma Daio himself into a cowering and sniveling wreck. "I-I'm sorry! I made you remember something horrible, didn't I? I'm really, really sorry!"

Waking up from his reverie, Satoru did his best to reassure Kosaburo that it wasn't his fault why he blanked out like that. "D-Don't worry about it, son. I... you're right. The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu truly is a terrible swordsmanship school." Afterwards, he raised an eyebrow and queried, "By the way, who was that man that first showed you Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu? You couldn't possibly mean...?"

At that point, the timely scream of, "DON'T YOU DARE COMPARE KAMIMINOCHI TO KANAGAWA, YOU DUMBASS! Kanagawa is just at the south of Tokyo, you uneducated asshole! Who are _you_ to call us 'Kanagawa's resident yokels?'" by Officer Sugiura caught the attention of both Yahiko's old and new friends.

* * *

"Again, who the fuck cares? Tokyo policemen should have priority over you Kanagawa fools in terms of the chain of command! I mean, that's the reason why Akahori called the Tokyo police over, after all! None of you fuckwits could handle this big of a mission even if you had a thousand Gatling guns or a hundred Armstrong cannons on hand!"

A fed-up Officer Shigeru Michishige retorted, "Really? Well, wasn't it your late captain that recommended the brilliant idea of shooting at Amakusa while cornering him? So many officers were injured by friendly fire from all units, and one our own even died because of that command! Shimizu's blood is in his dirty hands!"

"You take that back, you little shit! Don't you dare talk about our late captain like that!" an enraged Officer Sagami spat before lifting the defiant Michishige up by his collar. "Besides, I thought that it was supposed to be your Captain Yamada or whoever that's good with tactics! If ever, he was the one who probably thought it all up!"

"Aw, come on, you guys! Sempai-tachi! Can't we all get along? Amakusa's still out there!" Kosaburo begged, but his request was completely shut down by a deafening and resounding unison of "NO!" shouts.

To the speechless Kosaburo's surprise, it was Sakaguchi's turn to offer a piece of his mind on the already controversial topic even though he should've known better. "No, Captain Yamada would never have made such a stupid order! And even if he did plan that out, you people probably screwed it up, which is likely the only reason why the friendly fire even occurred!"

At that point, Officer Nakamura couldn't help but refute, "Well, fuck you, Detective Dumbshit! Why don't you marry Captain Yamada post-mortem and do his corpse since he's such an awesome guy? Honestly, it's _us_ who fucked up? Listen, numb nuts, I didn't take shooting lessons from the police academy for nothing! You must have been the one not shooting or _thinking _straight!"

"Well, the only reason you five cowards are still alive is because you're too chicken to actually _face_ Amakusa! If you don't want to follow the orders of our commanding officer, then you might as well just sprout wings and fly away with the rest of the deserters!" was the best rebuttal that the straight-laced Dankichi could come up with in lieu of a potty mouth.

Not wanting the outnumbered Tokyo unit to win the back-and-forth shouting match, the usually silent Officer Kazuki Matsura immediately followed up with, "I've had it up to _here_ with you assholes! If your troop is so great and powerful, then you can go ahead and face Amakusa by yourselves. Feel free to raid the munitions. We'll watch and wait to see you get slaughtered by Amakusa before acting. You only get what you deserve."

"All right, enough. Settle down. Nobody is going to abandon anybody to that cross-worshipping maniac. Tokyo troopers, you five... well, six if you include Nakajima... should vote for who you want to be in charge of your own contingent, just to settle things once and for all. This is definitely not the time for us to argue with each other." For once, the non-authoritative yet soothing voice of Lieutenant Nishimura worked to his favor by helping him defuse the volatile situation.

Before anybody else's temper flared, Nishimura bowed at Tadashi as a sign of humility. "I apologize for presuming that I'll be in command of your squad. Let's not fight. We need each other more than ever at this juncture of our mission."

Ironically, Tadashi lost to Saruwatari in the ensuing four-for-two vote.

After everyone settled down somewhat..."somewhat" in the sense that many of the Tokyo troopers were glaring at the Kanagawa troopers and vice-versa, Lieutenant Nishimura asked, "So where is Amakusa now?"

The depressed Tadashi regarded Nishimura with suspicion. "Are you insinuating something?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. I'm just asking where he is. We still have to kill him; hopefully, we won't be encountering any other people from his Battousai Group."

From there, Tadashi murmured, "We left him in the yard. We can go check him out there."

"You mean you LOST HIM? Fuck you guys!" Sugiura snapped, already frustrated by the fact that their own lieutenant was easily kowtowed into submission by these worthless Tokyo bullies. "He could've finished Akahori off while you're going around and acting like you're the boss of all of us! Fuck YOU! Fuck you till your asses bleed, you motherfuckers!"

"Look, it's okay that we left him outside because we've done our duty to heavily injure the zealot... or at least our captains, a Gatling gun, an Armstrong cannon, and two police units did, anyway," Sagami blurted out while Nakamura slapped the back of his head for spilling the beans.

"What?" Sugiura asked, thinking that there were echoes in the room but then realizing that the rest of his Kanagawa comrades had merely expressed the same question as he did.

"Akahori never expected us to kill Amakusa. Granted, he'd be giddier than a schoolgirl if we somehow managed to do that, but most of us in the Tokyo troop knows that his secret weapon... his bodyguard that used to be the second-in-command of some other rebel group way back when... is about as strong as Amakusa was at his peak, probably stronger. We're nothing more than just cannon fodder to him, and in that regard, we've done a superb job," Officer Saruwatari... the new unofficial leader of the Tokyo contingent... revealed in as calm yet resigned a manner as possible.

Meanwhile, behind the huddled police officers, both Kosaburo and Tadashi got up and paced around the room in order to release their aggravation over being duped by their own teammates.

"Now that you know the truth, are we even sure we still want to mess with Amakusa?" Sagami asked, relieved that he could in the end confess his fears without feeling guilt or rejection. "He has single-handedly annihilated several of our units, and we're the only ones left. I say Akahori can go fuck himself and let his little boy toy handle that insane fanatic! I didn't sign up for this; I heard Amakusa was supposed to be washed up. I should've been assigned to the Chichibu riots instead!"

"So you _do_ want to run away, you freaking coward!" Officer Dankichi exclaimed at the wrinkly Tokyo officer as the satisfied feeling of being right and the unsatisfied feeling of being betrayed brawled inside him.

"I kind of agree with him," Officer Matsura gently murmured to the shock of all his comrades. "O-Officer Sagami has a point."

His teeth gnashed till his gums bled, Michishige grabbed Matsura by the shoulders and shook him. "Like _hell_ he has a point! Whatever happened to your speech about abandoning the Tokyo group and watching them die because of their arrogance? Were you instead subtly telling everyone that you'd rather leave us all to the mercy of that mass murderer?"

Matsura tore himself away from Michishige and cried, "I JUST DON'T WANT ANYBODY ELSE TO DIE, OKAY? And Sagami's right; Akahori doesn't care one bit about any of us, pretty speeches or no!"

"Don't you dare talk about Akahori-san like that," Sakaguchi declared as he backhanded Matsura with ease. "I don't know where you came up with all these rumors and lies, but I don't believe a word of it. If none of you are willing to fight, then I'll stand against Amakusa alone."

"S-Sakaguchi-san," a tight-lipped Kosaburo murmured with furrowed eyebrows that covered his eyes in shadow.

Nishimura rose up and gently pushed Sakaguchi down to a seated position. "Sarge, calm down. We're saying all these crazy things because we're stressed out, but that doesn't mean that we can't overcome it. We're in this to...!"

Just then, the double doors of the Shinshushin Mansion exploded care of an inhuman, almost divine force. Once the dust settled, the two remaining Kanto district police units (plus several other injured officers) saw the dreaded caped silhouette from their worst nightmares.

"I thought you learned your lesson and ran away, only to see you huddled here." Amakusa sighed and rolled his eyes. "Begone, sinners and sodomites. My warning before still stands: Don't waste your lives by fighting me. Do the smart thing, for once."

"YOU AND WHAT ARMY?" chorused Tadashi and Sugiura, much to their mutual chagrin, as they charged at the unimpressed Amakusa with blazing, bayoneted Murata guns.

The battle-worn but monstrously strong Shogo brandished his sword, swung it with all his hallowed might, blasted the errant officers straight into the second floor of the mansion, and turned the wooden floorboards into a rain of sawdust, nails, and splinters. "I am a force of nature. You cannot overwhelm typhoons and you cannot defeat earthquakes; you can only survive them."

"Holy shit! TADASHI!"

"SUGIURA-SAN! No!"

"Kanagawa squad! Arm yourselves and protect the downed officers! Officer Saruwatari, give your commands to your men; it doesn't matter whether or not we're cannon fodder; it's our sworn duty to fight deluded criminals like him!" Nishimura said in as loud an intonation as his gentle voice would allow.

"You heard the man, Tokyo troopers! Those who want to run away, do so now. As for those who actually have the _balls_ to stand up and fight, lock and load; shish-kebab the terrorist if he's close, blast him full of holes if he's far away. Those were the last orders that Captain Ujiki gave to us when he was still of this earth, and it kept us alive all this time!"

Saruwatari took one look at the cult leader before his jaw dropped. He struggled with his choked throat before he could find his voice again. "L-Lieutenant! One of your men is charging at Amakusa RIGHT NOW!"

"What...? NO! COME BACK, SERGEANT SAKAGUCHI!" screamed Nishimura, his hands outstretched at the shrinking figure of his fellow senior officer.

* * *

In the middle of attempting his second Dou Ryu Sen, Amakusa spotted the charging figure of a thirty-something officer; a father and family man, he suspected.

"I remember you. You're the officer who tried desperately to keep Captain Yamada Kuniumi from bleeding to death. Please, don't waste your life the same way that he did for the sake of your loving wife and child."

"No. We've met even before that." Sakaguchi kept his unsheathed saber to his side and fell into what appeared to be the battoujutsu stance. "Come at me so that I may refresh your memory."

Amakusa breathed out, ignored the cacophony of anguish his nerves shrieked at him, and charged down low in order to counter Sakaguchi's expected saber draw as soon as it happened.

"SERGEANT! Sergeant Sakaguchi! Come back!" Lieutenant Nishimura beckoned, his voice box run ragged by all the screaming that he almost never did until then. The Kanagawa contingent soon followed suit in support of their commanding officer, which was then strengthened by the shouts of the Tokyo troopers led by Officer Kosaburo.

To the self-titled messiah's mystification, Satoru instead turned his back at Amakusa and looked over his shoulder. Since the head wasn't anywhere in striking range, Amakusa chose to rescind his planned Ryu Sho Sen charge and use his accumulated momentum to strengthen his leaping strike.

A flash of light appeared, followed by Amakusa landing several feet away from the Kanagawa sergeant and his sword embedding itself on the ground from behind him. He felt a stinging sensation on his cheek, and when he touched it, a linear blot of blood imprinted itself on his scarred hand. "How...? Are you from another Itto Ryu school?"

"No, you're mistaken. I am Sakaguchi Satoru... son-in-law of Sakaguchi Genzo... of the Musou Madden Ryu. Prepare yourself," Sakaguchi announced as he sheathed his saber and fell into his backwards sword-drawing stance once more.

In the mind's eye of Amakusa, the ghostly apparitions of two other warriors superimposed themselves on Sakaguchi's form: one he loathed and feared, the other he begrudgingly respected and sympathized with.

From behind Sakaguchi... after recovering from their initial shocked response... both police teams roared with cheers and approval for the sergeant's success even though they still couldn't believe what just transpired.

Shogo himself couldn't help but be bewildered at the turn of events, but he couldn't afford to be; both the Tokyo and Kanagawa squads had by then shifted position so that they could have a better shot at him and blast the ever-living hell out of his disarmed self. Then again, he had the small comfort of Sakaguchi failing to follow through because of the sudden rain of bullets at the Christian's direction.

Shiro Amakusa's namesake discharged multiple Dou Ryu Sen attacks in all directions using his empty metal sheath in order to create a smokescreen wherein he could retrieve his lost blade. Nonetheless, by this time, the policemen had figured out the predictable trajectory of the technique and were merely waiting for the landslides to peter out before resuming their assault anew.

'Although his standard-issue saber is much harder to pull out than a traditional katana because of its lack of a curve, he still managed to counter the Ryu Tsui Sen with his technique, which means that it must be the genuine article; the same skill that my supposed "uncle"...' The vertical part of Amakusa's chest scar flared with fresh flames. 'It even hit at the same trajectory.'

After getting his sword back, Amakusa repositioned himself so that Sakaguchi stood between him and the two remaining units. "Fine. If you insist on dueling, then let's fight battoujutsu against battoujutsu, then."

"Battoujutsu? I'm not using that outdated style. This is iaijutsu... a sword-drawing school for the new age."

Amakusa chuckled as he slashed through the landscape before sheathing his sword and going into the sword-drawing stance he was most familiar with. "Strangely enough, I've heard the same speech before; a long time ago, in fact. All right, then. My battoujutsu against your iaijutsu, Sakaguchi Satoru of the Musou Madden Ryu."

"Okay. But before anything else, I have one question to ask," Sakaguchi put forward even as he gradually inched his way into Amakusa's striking range using the balls of his feet.

"Speak now, or forever hold your peace... because there's no way in heaven or hell that I'll let you win this next exchange." Amakusa's head spun with a million different possible scenarios for their duel, to the point where he even considered using the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki in order to ensure his victory.

Conversely, a memory from beneath his subconscious revealed that even the supposed ultimate technique to end all ultimate techniques could be countered. The horizontal part of his chest scar also flared; alas, the key to countering it was based on the very stance that the Kanagawa sergeant was exhibiting at that moment.

'It doesn't matter; I'll call his bluff. What use is all my God-given strength if I can't destroy the one man that stands in the way of my people's freedom and their utopia?' Amakusa reasoned... nearly beseeched... to the doubts and fears that ravaged his mind.

"Why did you kill Captain Nakahara Ryu of the National Police? I mean, the captain with a hundred scars all over his body! I-I know you had to protect your people from persecution and death, but the way that you killed him seemed more out of revenge than purpose! I want to know the truth. What did he do to deserve such a violent, revolting death?" Sakaguchi hollered from over his shoulder, which earned him a berating from one of his fellow Kanagawa officers.

"Amakusa doesn't care who he kills or how he kills them as long as he gets his mission done, Sakaguchi-san! Don't you remember what the Togakudan told us in regards to how he wiped out the Gunma and Kamiminochi units? He didn't even take a second look when he chopped up three officers at the same time!" the ever-passionate Michishige screeched before his diatribe was drowned out by Amakusa's proclamation of:

"You want to know why I used the Kuzu Ryu Sen on your Captain Nakahara? It's because HE MURDERED MY MOTHER!" From there, everyone saw Amakusa disappear into thin air right in front of them.

"I-Is he using that double-strike battoujutsu of his?" Saruwatari asked the rapidly paling Nishimura. The only thing the Kanagawa lieutenant could mutter was, "I've never seen anyone move so fast."

"I am not WEAK! I am not like Master Hyoue! Through God's divine providence, I've inherited the might of the biblical Samson and become stronger than anyone could even imagine!"

Saber struck against katana at the same time because of how awestruck the Kanagawa sergeant was, and in a vulgar display of power, Amakusa's sword won the battle of speed with its incredible strength, shattering the blade of the blacksmith's son and slashing across his shoulder in one move.

"I am the everlasting hope of my people! I'll find the strength to bear the sins of this cruel world so Hidden Christians everywhere won't need to hide themselves and their faith while residing on the land of their birth! THEY HAVE NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF! THE GOD-GIVEN RIGHTS OF MY PEOPLE TO LIVE AND WORSHIP AS THEY PLEASE SHALL NOT BE DENIED!"

The sharpened edges of Shogo Amakusa's scabbard was just about to hit its mark and finish off Satoru Sakaguchi the same way it did with Gunma's halved lieutenant when a very timely interruption occurred.

"Tsui Gami!" Amakusa had backpedaled and retracted his follow-up sheath strike upon seeing a sword and a spiky-haired boy come out of nowhere, but this nonetheless resulted in getting the tip of his scabbard broken into many pieces thanks to this newcomer's strange, repetitious strike.

'Yeah. 'God Hammer' sounds like the perfect counterattack against this God-deluded terrorist,' the sixteen-year-old thought, nodding to himself at his "better late than never" save.

From behind the sergeant, his attacker, and his savior, the uppermost remains of the saya spun at the Tokyo and Kanagawa officers before clattering at the feet of a mesmerized yet ecstatic Kosaburo Shinichi.

"Y-Yahiko-kun! You came!" the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu student cheered amidst the agape silence of his fellow officers.

"Who the fuck is that boy and how the hell did he do that?" the impetuous Shigeru Michishige eventually voiced out what was on the minds of the rest of the gathered policemen.

The injured, bleeding, but amazed Sergeant Sakaguchi echoed Officer Kosaburo's sentiments as he beheld the boy... no, the young man... before him and the somewhat inappropriate tag of "Aku" from below his shirt collar. 'So this is how this person was able to save my daughter and keep her from fighting one of the strongest swordsmen I've ever seen in my life.'

The out-of-breath Yahiko Myojin couldn't believe his eyes as he wiped the sweat around his face. Had he not himself witnessed Kenshin use the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki against Gein and Enishi Yukishiro, he wouldn't have even been able to wrap his head around what he just saw. 'A Sou Ryu Sen that looks almost as fast as an Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki? That's just crazy. Or scary. Who is this Amakusa clown?'

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **A ballroom brawl.

_At this point, readers who have watched the Shimabara Arc will notice that I've changed a few things here and there, chief among them the fact that Amakusa's father, Tokisada, is now a practitioner of Nikaido Heiho (in order to explain the Rai Ryu Sen thing). _

_Finally, Yahiko battles Shogo. Huh. Sounds like a Mugen-created battle._

**Nasaan ang panginoon mo ngayon?_  
_**Abdiel


	20. Chapter 20

Back in 1549, the Catholic faith was brought to Japanese soil under the Portuguese flag by the historical Jesuit missionary, Saint Francis Xavier. He and his fellow missionaries arrived at the bottom end of Kyushu, in Kagoshima, and was amiably received by the Japanese leaders of the time. He baptized hundreds of people-the ancestors of future generations of Japanese Christians-before he departed in 1551.

At one time, the Christians of Japan were over a hundred and fifty thousand in number. However, Ieyasu Tokugawa banned Christianity as soon as he rose to power in order to avoid foreign influence, and the Christians were persecuted all throughout the time that the Tokugawa Shogunate was in charge.

The Hidden or Secret Christians of Japan, which were otherwise known as the Kakure Kirishitan, had no other choice but to stay hidden because of the rampant persecution, torture, and death they faced. Like the early Christians of Nero's Rome, these Japanese Christians were viewed by the feudal lords as a threat to the stability of Japan, and were summarily executed for their beliefs.

Tortures such as Tsurushi or Reverse Hanging were often employed on both captured Japanese and foreign Christians in order to make them recant their faith. This cruel and unusual punishment involved being bound by the feet and one of the hands by rope, while the other arm was left to dangle freely just in case the tortured wanted to use it to signal that he was willing to renounce his Christianity.

A cut could also be made on the forehead of the victim in order to lighten the blood pressure on his head and increase his agony. Other means of persecution included getting the Tsurushi treatment with excrement scattered right below you, dismemberment, plucking out your fingernails, and crucifixion.

Therefore, many Kakure Kirishitan were forced to turn secret caves into churches, create statues of the Virgin Mary that resembled the Buddhist Kannon, make Buddha-like Christ figures in the center of elaborately decorated crucifixes, and adopt prayers into Buddhist chant so that they could practice their monotheistic worship in peace.

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_Learn your history, folks._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 20: The Return of the Young Dragon **

* * *

_An hour and fifteen minutes past midnight, in the shattered entrance of the Shinshushin Mansion, right after the interrupted sword-drawing exchange between Shogo Amakusa and Sergeant Satoru Sakaguchi... _

Towards Amakusa, Yahiko approximated as cool a facade as he could muster and declared while picking the injured Satoru up, "It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. Take away all he's got and all he's ever going to have."

From there, Amakusa cackled until it hurt his throat, his eyes bulging out of his sockets at the perceived absurdity he gleaned from Yahiko's words. At that moment, Satoru took the opportunity to whisper to the boy, "That was an impressive technique you've got there, but Amakusa has even more tricks up his sleeve. Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu is a frightening school; you best leave while you still can. He'll chop you up into pieces."

Once Yahiko made sure that the bleeding Sakaguchi could stand and walk on his own two feet, he turned his back on the patriarch, keep his eyes trained on the hysterical Christian rebel, and remarked, "Please, sir; go back to your squad and get ready to fire at Amakusa in case I fail to stop him. I don't want Kyoko to have to say farewell to his father after only meeting him yesterday."

"No. Promise me you'll run away if Amakusa ever gets the upper hand!" the sergeant exclaimed with passion, but then winced and grabbed hold of his shoulder wound because of his sudden physical exertion. "I don't think either my daughter or I can stand seeing you gone either, though we've only met recently."

Yahiko didn't respond because at that point, Amakusa had already finished his hearty guffaw at the boy's expense and focused his attention on the situation at hand. It took Lieutenant Nishimura himself to grab Sergeant Sakaguchi and pull him out of the danger zone just as Yahiko and Amakusa crossed swords once more.

"You have a reverse-edged sword and you're not using it like a sickle? You have _got_ to be joking." Amakusa only did tentative, exploratory swings of his blade in fear of Yahiko busting out that sword-breaking technique again. "Who are you and what business do you have here?"

"I am Myojin Yahiko, son of Tokyo Samurai and Coadjutant Master of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, the Sword that Protects," Yahiko introduced as he kept on producing opening-like traps in his seeming lackadaisical stance in order to invite Amakusa to miss and be countered; however, his opponent wasn't taking any of his baits.

"Oh, so you were _serious_ about that one-liner you recently said? How killing people will basically take everything away from them? You really are a boy sworn to never kill so that you can maintain some sort of higher moral ground against your opponents? I've never seen such willful ignorance in all my life!"

Amakusa pushed Yahiko to the ground, grabbed hold of what was left of his scabbard, and used it to blast the off-balanced youth with an Earth Dragon Flash. By instinct, the teenager did a kip-up and sidestepped the miniature, short-range wave the same way the Tokyo police did earlier after they figured out how the technique worked.

"I have no idea what your problem is, but I think the better question here is how the hell did you learn Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu!"

"My _problem_ is this government and its corrupt leaders. For three centuries, my people have suffered all because they chose to worship a foreign God. As such, Japan needs to be purified in a baptism of fire in order for the righteous to prosper and reach utopia while its wicked leaders burn in hell."

"None of that validates what you're doing now! I know plenty of people who hate the Meiji Government-hell, I hate those bastards in power too-but that doesn't justify disturbing the peace we're experiencing for the sake of starting another pointless, bloody revolution!"

Yahiko did a couple of feints, hard blocks, then a body blow using his own metal sheath that seemingly broke Amakusa in half. Thanks to the previous stabbing efforts of Kamiminochi Lieutenant Okami Yamazaki and Tokyo Captain Mitsuru Ujiki, the strike that Yahiko did became three times more effective than it normally would've been.

The Son of Tokyo Samurai afterwards followed that up with a sword strike right at the rebel's chin. As his spit flew in the air, Shogo noted to himself, 'His sword is blunt? He's using the same weapon as Morinaga? No... He's using the same weapon as Battousai did when he turned into a vagabond!'

"I can't believe Master Hiko would actually get a student straight from the mental asylum! I thought he'd be smarter than that!"

Amakusa reeled and retreated using the freed-up distance between him and his opponent to sheath his katana and go into a sword-drawing stance. Yahiko gulped and halted, his mind racing as he tried to figure out which battoujutsu technique his nemesis would pull off next. "I had a master who was taught by someone named Hiko as well; Hiko Seijuro the Twelfth, to be exact. You still haven't told me why you're here, boy. How did you know who Hiko Seijuro is?"

'_Twelfth_? But the Hiko that Kenshin and I know is Hiko Seijuro the _ Thirteenth_. I guess that makes sense. But before Kenshin used the reverse-edged sword on Hiko, all masters were supposed to die by their students' hands in order to pass on the school to a new master! There can only _be_ one master per school, and that's an iron-clad rule!'

Upon seeing Amakusa's lead foot pivot, Yahiko made his prediction then and there and inwardly implored the multiple Japanese gods to ensure that he made the right choice.

Amakusa executed a Hiryu Sen technique... the same handle-smashing one he employed to knock Officer Ren Heiko out... but was then shut down when Yahiko thrust the tip of his sakabattou's handle to block the tip of the handle of Shogo's katana as well, which kept the sword from leaving its scabbard. 'How is he able to predict my every move? Even that Chujo Ryu master from Kamiminochi couldn't do this to me when we fought!'

"Defense Succession Technique Hadome!"

The larger Amakusa struggled to get enough slack and leverage to release his saber and cut the annoying young man in half, but like an Aikido expert, Yahiko used the cross worshipper's strength against him by intersecting his wrists over the interlocked weapon and catching it before it left its container.

"Are you talking about that Master Hyoue you mentioned earlier? Then you must be lying through your teeth, or else both Himura Battousai and Hiko Seijuro the Thirteenth would never have inherited the secrets of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu! Attack Succession Technique Hawatari!"

The confused Amakusa was afterwards left bowled over as this young stranger whom his spy, Morinaga, never told him about disarmed him of his katana, the blade harmlessly spinning on the ground and kicking up dust a couple of yards away from them.

"Tsui Gami!" Just like when the police force caught him flatfooted enough to get blasted by the Armstrong gun, Yahiko too had put Amakusa in a compromising position and released a headshot strike for good measure.

In order to keep his sharpened sheath from getting damaged any further, Shogo intercepted the boy's face with a fist as his own head was hammered three times at the same point by a deliberately blunted sword.

Thanks to the punch, Yahiko's skull-splitting strike didn't hit clean enough to knock the rebel down; however, the blow proved strong enough to make Amakusa stagger on his feet like a drunkard. "...C-Curse you, Myojin Yahiko!"

Getting as close to Yahiko's proximity as possible, Amakusa elected to do a pointblank Ryu Sou Sen with his sharpened sheath so that the urchin-haired kid couldn't read his attack and deploy yet another one of his counters. Alas, the Master of a Thousand Weaponless Defenses against Sword Attacks had one more ace up his sleeve.

"Hadachi!"

Yahiko caught the errant scabbard with one hand and broke off another section of it before punching Amakusa on the temple with the same hand that gripped part of the edged sheath and making him lurch some more.

'Good. I've managed to destroy Amakusa's saya. I'm at least safe from the wrath of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu Battoujutsu, especially from the unstoppable force of the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki. Screw that noise.'

"Here's a word of advice: You don't _use_ pointblank attacks against someone who has mastered a thousand shirahadori. You just don't," the teenager announced before throwing the broken piece of hollow metal to the side.

Yahiko wiped the blood off of his bleeding nose and cut hand. "You don't deserve to use the name Battousai. I don't know how a faker like you managed to learn the secrets of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, but if ever the _real_ Battousai gets his hands on you, I'd say your chances of beating him are up a rat's ass. You'll need to beat me first to even stand a chance, Mister One-Man Army!"

'Who is this Myojin Yahiko? And why does he have a reverse-edged sword like Battousai?' Amakusa thought to himself.

* * *

"I don't believe it. How is this kid doing something that four whole police squads armed with rifles, bayonets, sabers, a Gatling gun, and a cannon couldn't? It's annoying," Officer-in-Charge Amon Saruwatari asked no one in particular before getting the presence of mind to order one of his men to check on the jettisoned officers, Sugiura and Tadashi, to check if they were alive or merely unconscious.

"Did one of the other officers from any of the four districts come close to doing what that boy has done?" the slightly coarse-voiced Lieutenant Yusuke Nishimura quizzed the nearest Togakudan he could find, which was the coconut-haired shinobi named Minamoto.

Minamoto answered, "Kamiminochi Lieutenant Yamazaki certainly came close by stabbing Amakusa on the side, and maybe even Kamiminochi Sergeant Askikaga for helping make that wound possible. I've heard from the other spies that Tokyo Captain Ujiki really gave Amakusa a run for his money. However, all of them are dead now. Also, none of them were this dominant against the rebel; the only wound the boy has is a bloody nose, come to think of it."

"Well, here's hoping that the battered head of Amakusa will make him easier to shoot down," Officer Atsushi Dankichi quipped to the hopeful-looking Officer Kazuki Matsuri, who a while ago was contemplating whether or not to abandon the mission. The elderly-in-appearance (but not really all that old) Officer Taiki Sagami had a similar gleam of anticipation in his eye because of the recent turn of events.

At that moment, even Kosaburo Shinichi's mouth was left agape because of the display of skill his "sensei", Yahiko, exhibited. 'Maybe he can do it. Maybe he _can_ take on the supposed One-Man Army of Nagasaki. Hell, if this boy can face down a criminal that can hold the Armstrong cannon in one _arm_ when he was just ten years old, then maybe, just maybe...!'

The grinning Kosaburo went toward the infirmary with the intention of exchanging knowing, wordless smiles with Sakaguchi, but he was immediately taken aback by the dour expression on the Kanagawa Sergeant's face as he was being bandaged by the meat-bun-faced Okazaki.

"D-Does your wounds hurt that bad? I'm sorry that I didn't realize sooner that Amakusa had hit you with something serious," the concerned Kosaburo told Sakaguchi, but he was immediately cut off by the fatherly man's soft murmur of, "If we don't do something soon, that boy is going to die."

"W-What are you talking about, Sergeant Sakaguchi? Yahiko-kun is doing extremely well! There's barely even a scratch on him, and he's utterly dominating the terrorist!" Kosaburo reassured.

"Dominating? Really now." The sergeant chuckled. "Has he ever killed anyone? Why hasn't he finished Amakusa off by now?" questioned Sakaguchi.

Kosaburo frowned. "Well, no. Kamiya Kasshin Ryu is a purely defensive, counterattack-based kendo school. We don't do fatal attacks; we even live by the code of 'The Sword that Protects'."

Satoru shook his head and sighed with a deep scowl. "Then he doesn't stand a chance, especially once Amakusa starts fighting seriously and begins figuring his techniques out."

"N-No... wait. Don't be like that! Y-You're just j-jealous that you or the rest of us couldn't even _do_ what Yahiko-kun did to Amakusa! He can make it because even Mister Kamiya believed enough in him to give him his reverse-edged sword!" Kosaburo disputed, although it came out more like an imploration than a reasonable argument.

Sakaguchi's eyes went wide as his head jerked back to the direction where Amakusa and Yahiko were dueling. In fact, several of the officers and even Kosaburo himself did the same unrehearsed movement in near cadence with each other; a reaction to the subtle yet unbearable feeling of something askew.

"Ah, did you feel that? Of course, you did; you're a kendo student, after all." The sergeant's eyes narrowed. "That's Amakusa's sword-ki. It's beginning to flare up."

Kosaburo paled even as he reasoned, "Yahiko-kun himself has begun to learn how to control his kenki too. I've seen him do it as a child, even."

"No, you don't understand. When I fought Amakusa, however brief our battle was, I felt the same rise in kenki. He's about to make his move. I can only hope that your friend has a shirahadori technique or counterstrike for whatever that mass-murdering Christian has in store for him."

* * *

Amakusa winced as he gingerly kept Yahiko in front of him for the simple reason that the splitting headache he had didn't bode well for him in terms of dodging bullets or bayonets anymore; he needed to use the boy as his meat shield of sorts. 'So he knows who Battousai is. He probably even saw him fight back in the day when the ex-hitokiri could still fight. Fascinating.'

To Yahiko's chagrin, Amakusa dropped the one-third of his sheath he had left and began clapping at the boy's impassioned speech. "Bravo. Bravo. Bravura. You got me. I'm not really Battousai, although I did admire his exploits a few decades back in Kyoto and Tokyo from afar, while I was still growing up and learning the same techniques that he knew." He considered revealing a bit more than that, since he certainly needed to buy more time at that point.

Yahiko sneered while he contemplated giving Amakusa another Tsui Gami to the skull to knock him out. On the other hand, since he risked concussing the man by doing so, he instead opted to try out a Ryu Sho Sen to the neck once the opportunity presented itself.

"Are you still going on about that? Look, I already exposed your lie. You're only mimicking Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu; you never actually learned it formally."

"Oh, but I did. Uncle Hyoue loved his master so much that when the day came for him to learn the Amakakeru Ryu no Hiramiki, he opted to invent a sword technique he could use to spare himself and his master the rule that only one master could inherit the school." Amakusa's eyes narrowed, remembering the backward iaijutsu stance that Sakaguchi deployed against him earlier.

"Whether he was a success or failure depends on your point of view, but in the end, he used a slashing technique that enabled him to survive the Kuzu Ryu Sen without killing his master. Many years later, he taught me what he knew, although he kept that particular non-killing strike a secret from me."

"Bullshit. There's no such technique. Stop making things up; just surrender already before I make you surrender," Yahiko warned, but he then felt the hairs on his neck rise up and his spine tingle upon seeing the strange, hypnotic glint in Amakusa's eyes. 'I-Is that Nikaido Heiho's Shin no Ippo? Shit, I almost forgot; this guy knows the techniques of _both_ Kenshin and Kurogasa!'

"I always did find my uncle's morals an unfunny joke of sorts; his own hypocritical life served as the punch line. Did you know that even when faced with the prospect of getting rid of a few bad apples in order to avoid spoiling the whole barrel, he couldn't bring himself to do it?"

For one reason or another, powerful gusts of wind from out of nowhere began to ebb and flow across the body-strewn yard.

"Don't you find that a little selfish, or maybe even a bit capricious? He'd rather keep himself pristine and holy, never bothering to finish off enemies even though he knew that they'll be back to kill even more innocent people. Even the Hitokiri Battousai himself knew at one point in his life that killing is a necessary evil that must be done before he himself succumbed to the same dangerous naivety that my uncle suffered from."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, KID? Kill him or get out of the way so that we can shoot him!" Surprisingly, it wasn't Officer Michishige of Kanagawa that screamed that statement; it was instead a frustrated Tadayoshi Nakamura from the Tokyo Troop.

"Fine! Shoot him NOW!" Yahiko eventually relented as he sidestepped from the firing range of the lined-up policemen's Murata rifles since he figured it was the _job_ of law enforcement to apprehend criminals, terrorists, and rebels by any means necessary, including deadly force.

"What? Are you actually running away? Are you really the same as Uncle Hyoue? YOU COWARD!"

As the emotional Shogo hollered the words, the three Tokyo coppers and four Kanagawa officers who were still available to get up and fight felt their "flight" instinct escalate in the face of the Hidden Christian's mounting sword energy. The men who somehow coped with the sudden onslaught of petrifying terror and shot their load at Amakusa found their bullets flying all over the place, not one projectile landing anywhere near the insurgent.

'K-Kenki! I've never felt kenki so strong since I saw Kenshin use it! No, it's not just kenki; it's touki! His battle aura is almost suffocating to behold,' Yahiko thought as he skid to a halt and dashed back towards Amakusa. 'Granted, it's nothing like Kurogasa's Shin no Ippo, but it's powerful enough to confuse the policemen and even intimidate them on a subconscious level! For Buddha's sake, he doesn't even have a weapon on him!'

From the nearby trees, birds flew away from the waves of invisible power emanating from Amakusa's body that spread across the yard like cancer. He then nonchalantly walked towards his discarded sword.

"I am not like my gutless uncle or untalented father. I am willing to sully my hands and my soul to get things done! I am prepared to put my soul through damnation in order to save other souls from that same fate!"

Yahiko crouched down and was about to jam the blunt edge of his sakabatou at Amakusa's throat when the rebel unleashed supersonic punches all over his body, turning him into some sort of punching bag.

"If the Lord Jesus Christ himself had to sacrifice his mortal shell to free mankind from their original sin, then I too will forfeit and corrupt my immortal spirit in order to see my people through paradise!"

After Amakusa got a hold of his sword, he flew off and avoided the bullets from the recovering police before zeroing in on the bruised and battered Yahiko with his own Ryu Sho Sen. The boy countered with the Tsui Gami in order to break the katana in half, but the religious radical shifted from the Dragon Rising Flash to a complete Nikaido Heiho routine in one fluid movement.

Because the newly branded Tsui Gami struck at a single point in quick succession, it wasn't the best move to utilize against brushstroke-like sword slashes. Then again, thanks to the defensive nature of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, Yahiko dodged, swayed, parried, and blocked the predictable attacks before punishing Amakusa's aggressiveness with a well-timed Dragon Rising Flash.

'What an irritating brat! He also knows how to counter the Nikaido Heiho using the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu?'

"Just as long as you're not as deliriously fast and unreadable as Psycho-Kid, I can take you on, frightening kenki or no! Imitation Technique! Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu: Ryu Sho Sen!"

By the time Yahiko finished with his follow through, Amakusa was already bent backwards from the force of the counterattack, a visible imprint of the sakabatou's flat edge on his neck.

Nevertheless, the Christian revolutionary remained unfazed as he straightened up from his awkward position and inquired, "You've never killed a man, have you? Foolish child; this is no place for you."

"SHUT IT! You've killed one too many people already! I won't be able to forgive myself if I let you kill anymore of these brave men! I certainly won't let the cops you've already killed die in vain either! This time around, I'm going to split your head open like a watermelon! Revisal Technique: Tsui Gami!"

"Even if you _can_ kill me and completely destroy my body, there's nothing you can do to me that I fear. The only one I fear is God Almighty, and no one else."

Then, for the first time, Amakusa announced his attack in the same manner that Yahiko usually did. "Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu: Kuzu Ryu Sen."

At that juncture, Yahiko learned the difference between imitation and the genuine article as he saw the somewhat healed wounds that Soujiro Seta inflicted upon him three weeks ago reopened in renewed agony.

Because he had revealed how his Tsui Gami worked by using it four times in a row, Amakusa had the presence of mind to avoid the mistake Soujiro made and began his assault in reverse order so that the stabbing portion of his attack could push the boy away before the sword-breaking move could hit his sword.

Fortuitously, the boy managed to block several strikes using his sword's grip while curling into a fetal position to avoid any truly grievous cuts. In turn, the Tsui Gami _again_ helped save his life by hitting at least three of the nine simultaneous strikes, which pushed him back and chipped away at the fine edge of the katana despite all of Amakusa's precautions.

At the moment, Yahiko's chest wrenched at his every belabored breath, his mouth ripe with a rusty tang. He licked his lips; his blood burned his throat and bubbled through the orifices of his nasal and oral passages. That couldn't possibly be good.

'Dammit. It looks like the higher-level techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu are about as powerful as the Shukuchi after all.' That was the thing he hated about fighting someone of Kenshin Himura-Kamiya's caliber; one special move was all it took for these gods among men to turn the battle around to their favor.

"Congratulations. You managed to survive and weather the storm. You're not looking too good, though. What do you think? Maybe you've already changed your mind about my chances against your idol, the Hitokiri Battousai?" Amakusa mocked as he waved around his sword towards the ground several times to remove Yahiko's blood from his blade.

"You're still no match against him," was Yahiko's honest opinion.

"Whatever. Ah, speaking of Battousai, I almost forgot to introduce myself. I am Amakusa Shogo, formerly Amakusa Shiro the Second, formerly Muto Shogo of both the Nikaido Heiho and the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. Currently, I am known as the Battousai of Style of the Battousai Group."

'Come to think of it, the criminal's name in that Echigo kidnapping incident I was involved in was also Muto. Muto Kaname. I wonder if it's just a coincidence or something significant...'

Not knowing what else to do in that situation, the bloodied Yahiko got up to his feet, gave meaningful looks at Kosaburo, Sakaguchi, and the rest of the policemen whose names escaped him at the moment, and fell into his traditional Jodan-no-Kamae stance.

"You're something else, you religious nutcase. Fine. Let's see how good of a one-man army you really are."

* * *

_An hour and twenty-five minutes past midnight, outside the gates of Akahori's Shinshu Manor... _

Soujiro Seta arrived at the Shinshushin Mansion in time to witness Amakusa crashing through a window while Yahiko and his friends gathered around the debris-filled remains of the entrance, which the former Heaven Sword presumed was destroyed by the Christian rebel's Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu techniques.

Earlier, he saw a boy resembling a younger and perhaps faster version of Kenshin Himura carry off his boss's daughter, Rin Akahori, back into the manor. Furthermore, another shadow of the Hitokiri Battousai emerged in the form of a man who somehow knew all of the different special techniques of the Ishin Shishi patriot's arsenal.

If he didn't know any better, he would've sworn that these strangers bearing familiar characteristics of his redheaded conqueror came all the way to Nagano just to test how much he'd matured since the last time he faced the former vagabond who changed his life forever.

All the same, he had two pressing matters to attend to: Checking on Tetsuo Akahori's condition while also searching for the literal Battousai clone and Rin across every nook and cranny of Jusanro Tani's repossessed abode. Even with the speed to reduce earth to the point of seeming teleportation, that was still a tall order for even Makoto Shishio's ex-second-in-command to handle.

Undaunted, Soujiro sprinted towards the balcony leading to his employer's office with his wall-scaling Shukuchi, his frozen heart fully prepared to confront the separate personifications of Battousai's fighting style and Battousai's spirit and image. "Akahori-san. Rin-san. Be safe."

* * *

_An hour and twenty minutes past midnight, at the front yard of Akahori's Shinshu Mansion... _

Just as Amakusa let loose a Ryu Sou Sen that he intended to turn into a Kuzu Ryu Sen as soon as Yahiko was forced to guard against the strikes with no hope of countering them, he bore witness to the curious spectacle of a small, eye-patched man blocking each and every last strike of his with what looked like the miniaturized wakizashi version of the Myojin kid's sakabatou. The smaller, pirate-like individual was even as fast as he was. No, actually, he was a fraction of a second faster, if the Hidden Christian wasn't mistaken.

"M-Minoe!" Yahiko stuttered as he let his veneer of battle-readiness drop, his shoulders drooping as he planted the sakabatou into the ground and used it as his crutch of sorts.

'He blocked every one of Amakusa's strikes like it was second nature! How...? Why...? He looks so thin and frail, a strong wind could probably knock him down!' The boy's eyes then bugged out upon spotting the Christian rebel's other opponent.

Just to complete Amakusa's befuddlement as he moved away from the defense-oriented Munenori Minoe, he saw a muscular, bandanna-wearing man reminiscent of the samurai that murdered his mother grab hold of his sword's edge with his bare hands and bizarrely cry, "Hey, Mister Force of Nature! If I can knock you out, does that mean I can kayo the next typhoon that comes ripping through Japan?"

Without waiting for a response, the Great Gan tested out his theory with a hammer blow to Amakusa's skull care of a metal club he earlier hid in the mansion's backyard. He retrieved it recently after he learned of Yahiko's choice to fight.

The religious insurgent went into overdrive in trying to cut the Nakahara-looking man apart with his sword, but the bleeding, tough-as-rubber hooligan still got his bat swing to hit Amakusa right on the center of his crucifix-scarred chest anyway, knocking the wind out of him. To the shock and amazement of everyone present, the walloping blow made Amakusa fly straight into a nearby tree, which splintered and fell upon impact.

'Gan? GAN? What? Gan? What? _Gan_?' Yahiko figuratively picked his jaw up from the ground. '...What? That soba-loving bum can fight? Sure, he's built like an ox, but he also acts like a clueless jackass! It doesn't make sense!'

The boy babbled to himself, unprepared by the sudden and arguably contrived turn of events. 'He also went down like a brick dropped into a tub of water every time people kicked him on the nuts! What, did I stumble outside a Martial Artists Convention when I met these two dunderheads? I mean, what are the chances?'

Once they recovered from Amakusa's ki-induced hypnosis, the remaining Tokyo and Kanagawa troopers armed their rifles and commenced firing at the unmoving heap of leaves, branches, and cloth to make sure it stayed down.

The police focused all their concentration and firepower at the mass of shattered wood and clothed flesh. No other thoughts entered their heads because they still couldn't wrap their minds around the feat they just witnessed (the most impressive one they'd seen thus far against a seemingly unstoppable foe, which was saying a lot).

"Yay! You scored a touchdown, Gan-chi!" Minoe cheered at Gan's success after recovering from his initial surprise. "The Sanbaka are back in business!"

Gan made a clucking noise with his tongue. "Ah, but you're mistaken, Patches! I actually scored a goal!"

"IT'S A HOMERUN! AND STOP TALKING ABOUT THINGS YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT!" Yahiko found the strength to shout in spite of his wounds. "I... I mean, it's good to see you guys back. Thanks for saving me. You two were amazing. You make a great team."

"_We_ make a great team, Yoshi-boy. Call it our debt of honor and all that sappy shit, even." Gan greeted Yahiko fondly with an overly familiar ruffling of the injured boy's head before saying to Minoe, "And _you_! Where have you been, Patches? I kind of lost track of you in all that commotion. Can you drop the Three Stooges thing? I don't want that to catch on."

"'Sanbaka', eh? How insultingly droll," the capeless Amakusa said from behind the celebratory stooges, which made Gan smack Minoe at the back of his head as they all turned around and faced the durable cult leader.

"See? Now even the terrorist knows us by that stupid name!"

Amakusa began his impromptu divide and conquer plan by first directing twin full-on Dou Ryu Sen blasts at the pillars that supported the ceiling of the mansion's foyer, which resulted in its collapse right atop seven or eight officers (which didn't include the two Togakudan and the injured policemen inside the infirmary). As Shogo predicted, Yahiko yelled after the two officers that he knew of (Sakaguchi and Kosaburo) and ran straight for them.

Just as the open-vested brute with the large metal mace attempted another swing at Shogo, the latter whirled around to avoid the banal assault and did his least favorite technique in his impressive library of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu moves: the Ryu Kan Sen, a move best used for counterattacks.

Nevertheless, the imp known as Minoe arrived in time to block that technique as well, so no decapitations took place at the moment. A second later, a crater formed at the place where Amakusa stood a second ago. Knowing that he left himself wide open, Gan pushed Minoe aside as he faced the full brunt of Amakusa's Earth Dragon Flash.

Soon, Amakusa and Minoe were face-to-face. The redheaded Christian offered the defiant, turnip-banged Togakudan girly man a curious glance as he brandished his katana over his head and contemplated his next move.

"Minoe! Big fat guy! GET OUT OF THE WAY!" a third latecomer to the party (fourth if you count Yahiko) proclaimed while cranking up a familiar-looking killing machine.

"R-Raedo-chi? I mean, Raedo-sempai!" Minoe stuttered at his leader before grabbing hold of the bruised-yet-still-standing Gan's humongous hand and leading him out of harm's way. "This way, Gan-chi! I don't think that even you can take bullets from a Gatling gun!"

"O-Okay, Patches! Whatever the three of you say!" the Somewhat Dizzy and Nauseous Gan stumbled as he inwardly marveled at how soft to the touch Minoe's hands were.

Amakusa grunted and snarled as he dodged, weaved, and ran away from the suppressive fire of the still-operational Gatling gun. He considered using another Dou Ryu Sen at the thing, but then realized that it was about to run out of ammunition anyway, so he instead chose to leap straight inside the mansion unopposed through the second-storey window. At this point, he reckoned that all of Akahori's hired guardians had been properly dealt with, more of less.

Sure enough, the Gatling gun ran out of bullets. Perhaps it was just their luck that Amakusa chose that moment to make his move towards the mansion instead of staying around and making sure that nobody was left to stand in his way.

The slightly wobbly and faint Yahiko hated the fact that his first instinct was to check to see if Sergeant Sakaguchi, Officer Kosaburo, and all their other fellow policemen were all right, abandoning the two people who saved his hide in the first place.

Still, he'd already made it halfway through his run when Amakusa went forth with his plan, so he chose to check on the officers anyway, then hope for the best when it came to the wellbeing of two of the Three Stooges. 'This time around, I do deserve to be part of a _Sanbaka_. I'm such a stooge. Dammit.'

"Mister Sakaguchi! Kosaburo! Officer... Anyone from the Tokyo police? The Kanagawa police? A-Are there any officers still conscious in there?" Yahiko said as he kept on rapping his knuckles on the torn-apart bits of plaster and wood that covered the entire entrance.

"Hello? Are you that kid who disarmed Amakusa? We're all right for the most part, but we're all trapped by the debris. It's pretty thick and heavy. This is Lieutenant Nishimura from Kanagawa, by the way. It may take a while for us to dig ourselves out into the yard or inside the house," the muffled voice from beyond the ruins answered.

Yahiko bit his lip. "You mean the blasts were able to reach inside the house itself? Y-You're stuck in there?"

"I'm afraid so. Some of us are even trapped within the rubble _and_ knocked unconscious. Sergeant Sakaguchi is busy clearing the wreckage out with those people."

Yahiko felt his heart jump into his throat. "How about Shinichi Kosaburo? He's from the Tokyo police. Is he all right?"

Nishimura took a while to respond. "I-I don't know who that is. I'd check with Officer Saruwatari, but he has been hit knocked out by part of the roof, so I'm having a hard time knowing who's who from the Tokyo Squadron."

Upon realizing the lack of any sounds of struggle from the open yard, the Kanagawa lieutenant ventured, "Where's Amakusa? Is he dead? Have you killed him?"

Yahiko pounded his fist on the remains of the pillar. "H-He got away. He's now inside the mansion. He's probably after Akahori now."

Nishimura cursed under his breath. "Son, can you... go after him? We'll catch up as soon as we can, but you're our best hope right now. Besides, you were personally invited as a yojimbo by Akahori-san himself, right?"

Yahiko paused for a moment before Nishimura asked him if he were still out there. "Y-Yeah. I guess I am one of the Oyakata's hired bodyguards."

"Help Akahori-san's other bodyguard, Seta Soujiro, finish off that cop-killing madman. He chose you to be part of our troops for a reason. We'll help you out as soon as we can get out of here, but as of right now, you and your friends are the only people we can count on."

His throat already raw from all the screaming he did while Sakaguchi fought Amakusa, Nishimura croaked, "We must finish the mission, or else our comrades would've died in vain."

Yahiko again contemplated Nishimura's words before saying, "Okay. Oh, and please... keep yourselves safe and sound. Thank you."

After the bushy-haired teen was done talking to the Kanagawa Lieutenant through the thick pile of wreckage, he turned around and saw Gan staring down on him. "I guess running away is out of the question for you... Right, Yoshi-boy?"

Yahiko nodded as he stood up. "It can't be helped."

Gan pulled back his nonexistent sleeves over his arms and brandished his studded, tetsubo-style kanabo. "Then I'll be coming with you too. Apparently, this Amakusa Kumamoto fellow is weak against large metal bats. Then again, everybody is."

Yahiko smirked and shook his head at Gan's non-joke. "You dumbass." He then espied Minoe bowing profusely to his Togakudan leader, Raedo. "What's going on there?"

"Patches wants to come along and fight with us," Gan said while picking his nose. "I say we should let him come, since he saved both our asses."

Yahiko chuckled. "Yeah. He sure did, the little weirdo."

Suzuki Nagaoka pushed the diminutive defensive expert at the two other Sanbaka members and proclaimed, "Of course you can come with them, Minoe-chan. I didn't want you to hang around with the rest of the Togakudan anyway. You'll just get in the way."

Minoe brightened up like a newly bought and recently fueled gas lamp while Gan and Yahiko exchanged chortling glances at each other. "Really? Thank you, sempai-chi! I mean, Raedo-sempai! Also, thanks for saving my life by aiming that Gatling gun at Amakusa-chi when he was about to chop me into pieces!"

Raedo harrumphed and turned his back on the childlike wannabe shinobi. "It's not like I did it to save your life or anything. It was more me trying to kill Amakusa than me attempting to rescue you. I'll stay behind and search for the rest of our spies. They should be able to help dig the officers out."

His tone suddenly waxing pensive, Minoe asked, "How many of us in the Togakudan are left?"

Raedo cleared his throat. "I don't know. It's been sometime since I heard the others report back. I confirmed it from Okazaki. There are many of us who are missing in action."

"I see." Minoe nodded as he closed his eyes and breathed in the night air, frowning upon smelling a hint of metal and gunpowder around him. He turned towards his Sanbaka comrades and announced, "Looks like I'm coming with you too, Gan-chi. Yahiko-chi."

"Then let's go." Yahiko gave Raedo a curt nod, which Mikio Nagaoka's cousin immediately returned in kind. The little quarrels and squabbles that they engaged in earlier were all irrelevant now; the only thing that remained in their hearts and minds was the capture or execution of Shogo Amakusa.

"Go pummel his head until he can't remember his own name, kid," the Togakudan leader recommended.

Gan gave his club a thoughtless twirl that Yahiko and Minoe had to duck lest they suffered the same fate as Amakusa earlier. "We'll combine our powers and drive that uppity ginger into the ground like a railroad spike!"

"M-Monchiron!"

* * *

_An hour and thirty minutes past midnight, inside the Shinshu Manor... _

On his part, Yahiko witnessed intermittent flashbacks and memories of the Kenshingumi's mission to rescue Megumi Takani from a drug dealer and his henchmen, the Tokyo branch of Aoshi Shinomori's Oniwabanshu, specifically because they were also running inside a large mansion at the time.

The nostalgic vision made his heart twinge. 'The circumstances from what happened back then and now are way different, but I'm hoping we can get a resolution to this madness regardless.'

From time to time, Gan and Minoe stopped to let Yahiko take a breather or two. Even though Amakusa's Kuzu Ryu Sen didn't hit him as deeply as Soujiro's did, the fact that they reopened some of his earlier wounds left him in a precarious state. Regardless, his comrades never once left him behind or suggested to him to back down.

"So much for having Amakusa Kumamoto as your idol, huh?" Gan needled Minoe from out-of-the-blue without bothering to turn his head to look at him.

"Gan, this isn't the time," Yahiko said, frowning at how insensitive the brute was of Minoe's feelings. 'Raedo hasn't even found the rest of the Togakudan yet. I hope for their sake that they're okay.'

"Well, a person's perspective can and will change after you see your idol murder the rest of your comrades," came another unthinking jibe from the Great Goon.

Yahiko asked, "How about you, Gan? What the hell are you getting out of this?" The image of him crossing his arms and tapping his foot was implied by the tone of his voice. To the young boy's relief, _that _shut Gan up.

Gan grumbled an apology under his breath, which made Minoe giggle and say, "Let's forget about it, Gan-chi."

While running, the downtrodden Minoe raised his head and turned it sideways after sensing Yahiko give him a squeeze on the shoulder from behind.

"Yahiko-chi...?"

"Ah, sorry." Yahiko retracted his hand and reddened.

"Is something the matter?"

"No. I... You know. I'm sorry to see you look so dejected about Amakusa." He cleared his throat. "But at least you got the trust of your, um, sempai now. That counts for something, right?"

Minoe grabbed hold of the shoulder that Yahiko held and smilingly shook his bowl-cut head, his turnip-like side bangs swaying along with his pinkish face's side-to-side movement. "Oh. Don't worry. I'm quite all right. I just don't want to talk about that right now."

Yahiko furrowed his eyebrows. For some reason, he had an inkling that he made his companion feel even worse than before. 'Stupid Gan. He's the one who brought the subject up anyway,' he reflected with a grimace.

After a few more minutes of jogging, Minoe mentioned in a hushed voice so that Gan wouldn't hear it, "He's not really a bad guy, you know."

"I kind of find that hard to believe in light of him nearly killing my student from Tokyo and the father of a friend of mine in Shinshu," Yahiko remarked.

"He only had the best interests of his people in mind when he ended up killing all those policemen. He even... I heard from the other Togakudan that he kidnapped the Akahori daughter so that he can exchange Oyakata-chi's life for hers to avoid bloodshed. He didn't mean for this to happen."

Yahiko ruminated over Minoe's words for about a minute before answering, "Everything that starts with good intentions gets corrupted eventually. It's not the ideals that are wrong; it's the willingness of people to use it to their advantage without regard to their fellow man."

Yahiko learned that lesson the hard way, after witnessing everything that a demonically powerful yet pacifistic ex-patriot, an orphaned female kendo master, and a vengeful yet honorable street fighter had gone through.

"..." was Minoe's reply to those words.

"This way. Kumamoto must be back at that ballroom thingy where Curtain Beard did that long, boring speech of his," Gan beckoned as the three ran back to the same place they were assigned to guard. He scratched his nose after noticing both Yahiko and Minoe lag behind. "Come on, lazy butts! We don't have all day. Or night. Or morning. Whatever. Let's go!"

"Either that or he's already in the corridor leading to the office," Minoe said with a flat tone.

Yahiko hid his neck inside his collar after the light of a nearby lamp revealed the sprays of blood (not Minoe's own) that covered the Togakudan spy from head to toe. The eye-patched man probably witnessed Amakusa's murders firsthand.

"Less talking, more running! We're almost... shit," said Gan as he screeched to a halt and lay unmoving while his two cohorts, Minoe and Yahiko, crashed onto his wide back and collapsed as if they'd hit a concrete wall.

"HEY! What's the big idea, Gan? We have to...!" Yahiko cut his sentence short upon seeing what the Goofy Gan saw while Minoe gasped beside the both of them.

"Buddha's earlobes. What the hell is going on here?" Gan sputtered in not so many words. "Dead people. Dead people everywhere."

That was the gist of it. To be more precise, the trio saw before them a kneeling, closed-eyed Amakusa in the middle of the cavernous space, bathing in the blood of a ballroom-full of dismembered bodies. The Hidden Christian appeared to be praying a hymn for the dead, his naked, blood-covered blade serving as his pillar of support.

Yahiko forced his tentative eyes to get a better look at the grisly scene while again resisting the urge to vomit like when he saw the remains of the Kamiminochi and Gunma forces.

Upon closer inspection, the lone Tokyoite noticed that the bodies wore the same garish purple-and-blue ensemble Minoe and Raedo sported. After comprehension hit him like a wooden clog to the face, Yahiko paled, retched, and forced himself swallow down the puddle of vomit in his mouth. The Togakudan shared the same fate as Keisuke and his fake Battousai Group

"Fuck me. Almost all of them are here," Gan rasped as he wiped his face and forehead with both hands while shaking his head slowly. "Pumpkin Head. Frog Lips. Shaolin Reject. Tumbleweed Hair. Some of them I can't even recognize anymore."

"This was where the disappearing Togakudan went." For his part, Minoe bowed his head low and let the shadow from his bangs cover his non-patched eye. A minute later, Yahiko heard sniffles and withdrawn sobs from one of the last few surviving Togakudan inside Akahori's Mansion.

The hooligan's bare skin took on the texture of a freshly plucked chicken, remembering that only this afternoon, he had a fist fight against most of the Togukudan that'd been massacred here. "Holy shit, man. This is messed up beyond belief."

Something bothered Yahiko, though. Did Amakusa kill all those spies right then? Granted, Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu practitioners were scarily efficient killing machines, but why exactly were the Togakudan huddled inside the ballroom in the first place? Did Amakusa kill them one by one and dragged them back here to hide them? No, that made even less sense.

The three backed away in unison after Amakusa opened his eyes and stood up; either he was finished with his prayers, or he noticed the trio standing there in awe of what they'd seen. "I thought you three had the common sense to take my generous proposal to let you go. You disappoint me. That offer is still on the table, though."

"I'm sorry, bud, but you can't go killing people and expect their loved ones to not be pissed off about it. I don't care how abused your people were by the government; you've made their lives a lot more miserable with your terrorist acts. You need to be stopped," said Yahiko.

"As usual, you don't understand a thing. You've all been manipulated by Akahori into doing his bidding. As long as that bastard is alive, my people will never be truly free. I'm merely doing the same thing that your idol, the Ishin Shishi hitokiri known as Battousai, did in order to bring about the new age. That's part of the reason why I named my new group of revolutionaries after him."

"Don't you dare compare yourself to Kenshin! You can never be half the man he is! Battousai is nothing more than a name. Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu is nothing more than a sword style. Up until the time you can feel remorse for the people you've killed, you can never know what it's like to be Battousai."

Yahiko took a step forward, unsheathed his sword, and raised it up over his head. "Where were we?"

"So be it. I will pray for your soul," the bruised, battered, but undefeated insurgent exhaled in resignation as he moved away from the piles of Togakudan bodies and assumed a sheath-absent battoujutsu stance, the tip of his sword scraping the wooden floorboard in order to use it as leverage for lack of a scabbard.

"Now hold on a second, Yoshi-boy!" Gan swung his kanabo-tetsubo with one hand around his head, producing a gust of wind that ruffled the hair and clothes of everyone standing, and slammed it onto the floorboards with a resounding thump. "We're here as backup, remember? You won't be fighting alone. Isn't that right, Patches?"

After a couple of minutes of silence, Minoe brushed back his hair, readjusted his eye patch, and whispered with a wan smile, "Monchiron."

Yahiko scuttled over to Amakusa's side, arms tensed and his reverse-edged sword completely still within his tight grip while eyeing the insurgent's own blade. His fingers relaxed and danced on the handle as he evaluated potential openings he could exploit, remembering the successful Tsui Gami he'd executed to render the rebel's sharp-edged sheath unusable.

'The good news is that without that strange, bladed sheath, Amakusa can't do his battoujutsu. The bad news is that he knows a lot more than battoujutsu.'

Out of the blue, Yahiko heard Gan tell Amakusa, "Yeah... I'm just going to kick your ass now, okay?" before delivering the first blow of the match: an arcing swing of his studded bat right from the hip towards Amakusa's head.

"Eh? Gan-chi...!"

"Gan, you goddamn moron! Don't bum-rush the guy! He'll slaughter you!"

Shogo hurtled right inside Gan's personal space as the bat reached the apex of its arc, bent his knees, and jumped to slice off Gan's head with a Rising Dragon Flash, only to change the trajectory of his sword and block Yahiko's God Hammer strike with the handle in fear of getting his katana broken.

"HAPPA!"

Both Shogo and Yahiko jumped back after Gan slammed his blunt weapon onto the floor and smashed it into bits. Even before the dust settled, Yahiko leapfrogged over his hooligan compatriot's outstretched arm and delivered a combination of counterstrikes hidden by the surrounding clouds of dirt and sawdust at Amakusa.

The Tokyoite corralled Shogo to the foot of the ballroom's left staircase, renewing his efforts in landing a second, fight-ending Tsui Gami on Amakusa's shining blade. The rebel took that as his cue to unleash more calligraphy-based Nikaido Heiho in between the single-stroke magnificence of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu.

Amakusa noticed that compared to earlier, the boy's breaths had become a lot shallower; the exertion and his wounds had made him a hair slower.

Shogo exploited the amateur swordsman's lack of familiarity with Nikaido Heiho by doing the school's equivalent of the Ryu Kan Sen: A special, unnamed back-pass technique wherein the practitioner switched the blade from one hand to another in order to confuse the enemy with a blindsiding attack.

Shogo's irises shrunk into mere dots after Minoe barreled in the middle of the furious exchange and blocked the deceptive strike with his own reverse-edged wakizashi. To compound his slip-up, he heard Yahiko thank the diminutive blocking expert before slamming the sakabatou into one of his kneecaps.

Amakusa's legs buckled underneath him, but he compensated for the slip by unleashing a Dou Ryu Sen to keep the two interlopers at bay... for all the good that it did, because Minoe blocked the move before the sword could hit the ground while Yahiko exploited the opening and sent the rebel smashing into a wall.

"You got him, Yoshi-boy! Patches! Keep him right there!" Gan praised, his tetsubo on standby as two of the so-called Sanbaka poured on counterattack after counterattack (with Minoe doing all the blocking while Yahiko provided the counters), not one of Shogo's ragged slashes landing on the two defense-oriented fighters.

To himself, the ruffian pondered, 'Even though we're winning, that Kumamoto guy is looking far too calm for my tastes. What does he know that we don't?'

Yahiko was about to smash Amakusa's sword in half when Minoe blocked the Tsui Gami by sliding the reverse-edged wakizashi over the sakabatou so that the God Hammer couldn't hit any particular part of the weapon more than once to break it.

"Minoe! What the hell are you doing?"

"AH! I'm sorry, Yahiko-chi! I was so concentrated on blocking attacks that I blocked yours!" Minoe apologized for his mistake while Amakusa did a feinted strike and countered Yahiko's counter with shallow swipes that the Togakudan didn't block in time.

Gan slapped his forehead with his beefy hand. "Never mind that, Yoshi-boy! Focus on Amakusa Kumamoto! Amakusa!"

'Kumamoto...?' Amakusa considered before ignoring the Boisterous Gan's nonsense and reassessing his bearings. 'Never mind. Whatever his reason for calling me that, it'll probably be foolishness of the highest order anyway. A fool shows his annoyance at once, but a prudent man overlooks an insult.'

On his part, the wild-eyed Yahiko's mind recalled the eye-patched man-child's undying support for Amakusa even after the rebel killed the vast majority of Togakudan. He then reeled from a stab that missed him by mere inches.

'Minoe doesn't want Amakusa to die, does he?' the teenaged samurai realized.

"Watch out!" exclaimed Minoe as he jumped towards Yahiko's side to keep Amakusa from moving in for the kill, but he was shoved away by the boy. "Ow! What was that for? I'm sorry I didn't block in time! Jeez..."

Yahiko opened his mouth as if to retort, but seemingly thought the better of it and instead murmured, "I-It's... I'm sorry for shoving you around and snapping at you. It's just that I almost got him..." He gawked at his hands. Why was he trembling so much?

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **Tooth and nail.

_Yep, I used a Clint Eastwood quote (and paraphrase) from the 1992 film "Unforgiven". All rights reserved. Anyway, here's the deal. In order to reconcile two Rurouni Kenshin continuities (namely, the cut-short TV anime and the manga), I've decided to answer the questions, "What if the Kenshingumi were too busy with Enishi and company to resolve the issues presented the filler arcs? What if these unresolved issues came back to haunt Yahiko, the inheritor of Kenshin's sakabatou?" _

_Also, before I forget, even though in the original anime, the eighty-eight followers of Shogo were faced with annihilation from multiple army squadrons during the Day of the Holy Spirit, things are slightly different in this version for reasons you'll have to discover later on._

**Taas noo kahit kanino,_  
_**Abdiel


	21. Chapter 21

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_As usual, Amakusa will be quoting the bible and Christian prayers a whole lot. He'll also be quoting William Shakespeare and Alexander Pope. He's a... well-read kind of guy. _

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 21: The Tiger Scramble**

* * *

'Wait, what in blazes am _I_ doing? I'm leading the offense too much and letting them counterattack me!' Shogo Amakusa realized, deciding then and there to change tactics by backing off from the pair, searching for possible avenues of escape.

While the duo argued and made up, Shogo got to a running start and leaped over the heads of both Minoe and Yahiko to escape their counterstrike trap. Afterwards, he saw a whole constellation of stars explode before his eyes after giving Gan's skull-crushing bat an inadvertent kiss in midair.

The Savior of the Secret Christians fell back on earth with a wood-splintering thud, which left behind a person-shaped crater of sorts as he lay on his back, a spray of sweat, blood, spittle, and sawdust scattering across the ballroom floor.

"Gotcha!" Gan himself landed on his feet with shuddering twin foot stomps while following through his jumping and swatting movement. "Your fancy twirling and flipping can't do shit against me, Kumamoto!"

"Gan! Way to go! You saved my ass again! I owe you big time!" Yahiko cheered before turning towards the awestruck Minoe and holding the eye-patched man's free hand. "I owe you both. Let's bring down Amakusa once and for all to avenge the deaths of the police and your fellow Togakudan!"

Minoe's lone exposed eye lingered over Yahiko's face for a second too long. "M-Mochiron," he stuttered as he adjusted his wig and avoided eye contact.

"..."

Yahiko could've sworn he saw hints of wetness from the side of his fellow Sanbaka's face.

And so the Three Stooges ran towards the reclining Amakusa, with Gan ready to turn the Christian into a red stain on the ground while Yahiko and Minoe trailed by either side of him. To the Galloping Gan's consternation, the second impact of his iron bat hit nothing but floorboards and the ground underneath. Shogo had already scuttled away and stood up on shaky legs, his head pulsing like a second heartbeat.

"Shit! Yoshi-boy, don't just stand there! LOOK OUT!"

Yahiko spaced out in the middle of the chase, his eyes losing focus as the nine simultaneous strikes he suffered twice over from both Soujiro and Amakusa replayed itself in his mind, his wounds screaming at him to stop moving and collapse.

A second later (thankfully not a second too late), the boy woke up, and he barely had enough time to parry the thrust Amakusa threw at him, which gave him the idea to sheath the Christian's blade with his own iron saya by sliding the sakabatou over the katana's blunted side to guide the scabbard's path.

'If Minoe doesn't want you to die, then I'll have to defang you like the snake that you are so that the cops can arrest you without fearing anything!' Yahiko decided once the sheath covered three-fourths of Amakusa's weapon.

"W-What in the...?"

"Tsui Gami!"

At the same time, Gan was already barreling towards the trio of Amakusa, Yahiko, and Minoe after he plucked his kanabo out of the hole in the ground he had made.

Before the sixteen year old could break the sword in half by hammering the exposed part of the blade and using the sheathed part as leverage to snap it off, Amakusa dug his fingers deep into one of Yahiko's freshest wounds until blood spurted out anew.

"YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAARRRGH!"

In turn, every orifice of the boy shrieked, seemingly at the mercy of Shogo's desperation move. The rebel then thought on his feet, sheathed his sword all the way into Yahiko's scabbard, turned to face the charging Gan, and drew his sword to deliver a battoujutsu strike that hit the hooligan dead center on his sternum.

"GUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

"Yahiko-chi! Gan-chi!" Minoe arrived in the nick of time to partially deflect the blade's trajectory while Gan himself repositioned his bat to keep the blade from slashing his midsection too deeply.

"GAN! Amakusa, you bastard...!" Yahiko halted in mid-speech; the only sign of the rebel he saw was the strands of flowing red hair fluttering away from his line of sight. 'Holy shit, it's the Ryu Kan Sen! Duck!' his mind shouted at him.

Yahiko compelled his sweaty, bloody body to bow and move away before he got scalped, beheaded, slashed in half, or suffered any number of gruesome fates. He then looked behind him, saw Amakusa's blade mere inches above him, and plopped down on all fours. 'What happened?'

The Tokyoite had his answer as soon as his vision cleared and his eyes focused on the two combatants before him: Minoe and Amakusa. For his part, the shorter, eye-patched, and wig-wearing Togakudan grabbed hold of the shining blade with his bare hand and thrust the tip of his short sword near Shogo's throat. Meanwhile, Amakusa held an iron grip at Munenori's wrist and kept the blade from plunging down his jugular.

"I'm sorry about this," said Minoe.

"Why do you insist on saving him?" Shogo queried, uttering his question with nary a stutter. Minutes passed, but he said nothing more as he let his inquiry hang in the air.

"H-He has nothing to do with any of this," Minoe insisted, his one eye glimmering with moisture, his body tense, and his limbs trembling. "Let him go. Let him be. I beg of you."

Yahiko recalled his own experience of battling Kenshin for the first time during his genpuku; he realized that he probably looked like Minoe did right then.

"FUCK THIS SHIT!" a bleeding, hobbling, yet still rampaging Gan roared before interposing himself between the deadlocked pair, the blunt end of his iron bat producing a plume of expanding dust, shards of wood, rocks, plaster, and debris that shot out from the epicenter of the thug's strike to multiple directions. The force of the impact flung Amakusa, Yahiko, Minoe, and several of the Togakudan bodies across the room all at once.

Yahiko scrambled up to his feet while a fully flexed Gan brushed the bits of dirt and debris off of his bulging biceps. 'Wow. Am I seeing things, or are those muscles bulging a bit harder than before? Isn't he injured? Also, did he have a bomb attached to that tetsubo of his? I never realized how strong he is! I only thought he's some sort of bumbling buffoon.'

To Gan, Yahiko said, "This is the third time you saved my ass! Don't get too cocky though, you big...!"

The older man chopped the top of the teenager's head with his frying-pan-for-a-hand. Consequently, the boy's eyes rolled to the top of his sockets until only their whites were visible, his head bouncing around every which way.

"DAMN! What's the big idea, you oversized land whale? Whose side are you on? You're worse than Minoe!"

"You had Kumamoto beat several times in your fight, but you couldn't finish him off." Gan's mouth and brow ridges sunk so low, his face looked like melting wax.

Meanwhile, Amakusa and Minoe eyed each other as they rose up from their respective knockdowns. They contemplated their next move while also keeping Yahiko and Gan in the corner of their eyes.

"Y-Yeah? So what? You were the one who charged like a bull earlier! And, if you'd recall, you were also the guy who followed me to this mansion from the get go, not the other way around!" Yahiko replied, aghast at Gan's accusations, his intended apology for hurting him by inadvertently assisting Amakusa in doing a battoujutsu strike dying in his throat. 'Stupid Gan. What's his problem?'

"You were wearing non-decorative bandages the day I met you," Gan noted, and Yahiko gulped and stood stock-still. "I didn't say anything earlier when you kept running out of breath as we jogged all the way to the ballroom because you were so intent on helping out those trapped policemen, but the situation is getting way out of hand. You're in over your head, Yoshi-boy. Kumamoto got you good with that flashy technique of his. You're in no shape to fight him, aren't you?"

'He's at his limits? I was afraid the Kuzu Ryu Sen wasn't able to hit him completely, but my fears were for nothing.' Amakusa narrowed his eyes. 'So how was he able to still fight back, then? His moves are quite sharp for someone who's injured.'

"I've had three weeks to heal! I'm fine! We're wasting time," Yahiko waved Gan off and pushed him aside (or attempted to, because the thug wouldn't budge an inch) when he felt the brute grab hold of the sakabatou and its sheath, the studded club clanking hard on the floor. "Let go off my sword, Gan!"

Yahiko swung his leg towards Gan's crotch, only to yowl in pain as the monstrous muscleman trapped the boy's shin between two hardened thighs and squeezed it sore before it even reached any testicles. "You're not going anywhere. There's no sense in you having a relapse or something. Let me handle this. I got you covered, kiddo."

Amakusa took this strange incident as his cue to attack, with Minoe following close behind, when Gan relinquished his hold of Yahiko, sheathed the sakabatou, and threw the weapon right at Shogo's head.

By reflex, Amakusa turned his head to the side to keep away from the rotating projectile and utilized lateral movement to avoid letting Gan catch him unawares.

From behind Shogo, Minoe caught the blunt sword and halted his short sprint. The undersized, disheveled spy stared at the weapon and then at Gan, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head in askance.

"Don't try any funny stuff on me, Kumamoto. I'll get to you soon," Gan declared as he picked up his kanabo and wagged his finger at Amakusa. "As for you, Patches, you're as annoying as Yoshi-boy. I don't think you've got the balls to fight, much less finish off, your idol. You're a liability too, so cool off and take Yoshi-boy with you!"

"B-Balls? E-Eh...?" a blushing Minoe stammered before Gan picked up the dawdling Yahiko by the collar and threw him at the eye-patched spy without so much as a warning.

"Huh?" Yahiko mumbled when he first realized his airborne state. He then screeched, "What the HELL?", which was the same sentiment Minoe shared as evidenced by his bugged-out right eye, loosened jaw, and upraised arms that dropped the two swords he held.

In any case, the teenaged boy was lucky that Akahori's secret agent had the presence of mind to let go of the weapons _before_ they collided against each other.

'Soft. Why is it so soft here? What's that scent? It's intoxicating. It smells like flowers with a hint of... rust? No, blood,' thought Yahiko.

A high-pitched scream woke him up from his dreams of pillow fluffiness and bloody perfume.

'Uh oh.'

Minoe had opened his eyes in time to see a drooling Yahiko's face shoved right into the open flap of his kimono. From there, the Tokyo Samurai Descendant discovered how sharp the daintier man's fingernails were.

"Ow! Okay! I'm sorry, Minoe! But it was Gan who threw me at you, dammit!"

"Gan-chi, that was embarrassing! Don't ever do that to me again!" the eye-patched girly man bawled as he crawled away from underneath the Tokyoite and kicked him in the head for good measure. "IYAAA! I'll never get married now!" He buried his face in his bandaged hands.

"What? No! Dammit, Minoe! Stop acting like a... w-weirdo! I mean, sorry. I mean, uh... What am I apologizing for? This is all Gan's fault!" the scratched-up Yahiko rationalized, his mouth shaped like an upside-down wedge of lemon and his scrunched features sporting an unhealthy hint of blue.

Gan spoke again. "I'll be the one to fight that rebel for you, Yoshi-boy. After all, I owe you a lot for bailing me out from that cockfight dilemma we had earlier. This is my thanks, from one stranger to another. Have a happy life together, Yoshi-boy. Patches."

"DON'T SAY THINGS THAT PEOPLE MIGHT MISUNDERSTAND!" chorused Minoe and Yahiko.

'I don't even want to know,' a frowning Amakusa reckoned as he used the inane reprieve to rest and catch his breath, his cheeks flushed as he looked away.

"Is this what this is all about? That's all fine and dandy, but I want _ cash_ payment for your debt, you bum!" Yahiko's remark compelled everyone within earshot to lose their balance and fall prostrate to the ground in typical pratfall fashion.

After clearing his throat, Yahiko clarified, "I don't want you to fight my fights, Gan. My obligation to put Amakusa to rest is much more serious than yours anyway. There's no point in throwing your life away for a money debt. Minoe, give me my sword."

After hearing no response, Yahiko repeated himself and turned to face the smaller man. "This is my fight, Minoe."

"Gan-chi's right. You're not in the condition to fight right now. Amakusa-chi would've finished you off if I hadn't been there." Minoe took both the wakizashi and sakabatou on the floor and put them on his cloth belt. Yahiko tried swiping at his inherited weapon, but with one simple pinch of his wounds, he cringed and backed off.

"Help me clear the battlefield, please," Minoe said to Yahiko. The Togakudan's eye had a faraway look as it went through the motions of dragging the mortal remains of the spies to a more unobtrusive area of the ballroom. After looking back and forth between Gan and Minoe, the boy decided to follow suit; he had no choice at this point.

Just then, a recovered Shogo made a mad dash towards the stairs, but found his path blocked by the Gabby Gan's thrown iron mace as it hit the space mere inches away from his feet and turned the floor into an ankle-high trench.

Amakusa said, "I guess you're finally done with your melodramatic speech. It took you long enough."

As Gan ran towards Amakusa, the insurgent saw the phantom of another ghost from his past superimpose himself on the bullish brute's silhouette.

Earlier, Shogo imagined Gan to be the spirit and image of his mother's murderer, the samurai known as Nakahara. However, in light of the bandanna-wearing thug's antics, he reminded him more of the late Genemon, a follower of his that trained dogs to do his bidding. They had the same straightforward personality, at the very least.

"Oh, that's right. I haven't introduced myself to you, Kumamoto! I am the Great Gan. I am also known as the Soba King, the White Tiger, and the White Peril of Okinawa. But as for you, you may call me Daddy, for you are my bitch."

Amakusa sized up his brawny opponent with one look and began the fight with tentative thrusts of his sword. "You're an interesting fellow, Mister Gan. But please, don't force me to do something that you'll surely regret."

* * *

_One hour and forty minutes after midnight, within the Shinshu Mansion's ballroom... _

The goose flesh on the Hot and Bothered Gan's skin protruded like a dermatological disease as his heart pounded against his rib cage, demanding release. His breaths also came in pants and gasps.

Nonetheless, his toothy, face-wide smile remained. It was now or never; there was only one thing he could do. He only wished he knew what the hell it was.

A thrust opened a cut over Gan's shoulder, which woke him up. Presumably feeling braver, Amakusa hurtled himself at the ruffian, twirled around, and executed a whirling slash that the thug barely avoided by ducking.

Gan bluffed, "You've got to do better than this, Kumamoto. What's with those lame stabs? Anything less than the Shinsengumi's Hiratsuki is a disappointment." The boisterous brawler moved forward in order to fight toe-to-toe with the rebel, figuring that the length of the rebel's sword would be a detriment in a "trench battle" of sorts.

Why was he doing this again? Oh, right. Obligation. "Giri", in other words. It was such an old-fashioned term for someone who didn't even consider himself an old-fashioned guy. However, the spiky-haired boy who cramped his style the day before when he tried to score a free meal still helped bail him out of several debts regardless. He owed him. Literally.

Amakusa slashed away at Gan, not minding the lack of leverage that made his slices shallower. The rebel even doubled up on his stabs that connected right into the thug's thighs, shoulders, and feet.

Even though Gan couldn't exactly swing his bat with full force at such a close range either, he threw his own share of bombs using his fists and elbows while he lunged and clawed at his opponent's hands and forearms in order to break them.

"Why are you sticking your nose into other people's business? At least answer me that before something bad happens to you. The boy didn't even want you to fight me alone. Don't you realize what you've gotten yourself into?" asked Amakusa.

Gan wasn't born yesterday. He knew that he didn't need to do all this. Fuck "giri". Then again...

"Yoshi-boy is an okay guy. He would've put up a better fight against you were he not already injured when he came here. Even if he sucks at fighting, I'll be willing to fight for him. You know why? He made a lazy bum like me believe in something as annoying as fulfilling obligation. He made me remember how to be a responsible man," said Gan.

Gan covered up well against the Nikaido Heiho combinations, deflecting the horizontal, diagonal, and cross strikes with his blunt weapon thanks to his familiarity with the calligraphic style, but the ensuing "Battousai" moves were another matter altogether.

"Stop trying to act 'cool', Gan! Because you're not!" berated the ungrateful whelp that the Magnanimous Gan just saved while Patches kept a hold of his weird, toy katana with a reversed edge.

'Serves him right. I hope Patches never gives him back his stupid sword,' the Dashing Gan reflected.

With that said, the Courageous Gan's counterattack began right then and there, with him swiping his tetsubo in every which way with his right hand while landing a shuddering left hook straight into Kumamoto's ribs with a crunchy squelch.

'I've discovered your weak spot, haven't I?' Gan licked off the blood on his fist to make sure that it wasn't his own. Judging from the lack of a stinging sensation on his bandaged knuckles, it probably was Amakusa's. He clipped the rebel on the temple with the bat, which at last made him back off.

For the rest of the bout, Kumamoto favored his midsection while he got backed into a corner, his left elbow wedged permanently beside it like a shield of sorts as he switched stances between Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu and Nikaido Heiho. The Hardcore Gan smelled blood, so he thusly pressed on his attack with uppercuts and smothering kanabo swings from all angles.

"I bear you no ill will. I bear no one in this mansion save for Akahori ill will. You cannot beat me, though. Please realize your folly before it's too late. This is your final warning." Amakusa afterwards disappeared and reappeared into a multitude of transparent afterimages.

From there, the Befuddled Gan became a crimson fountain. What was the technique Amakusa used on him called? Dragon Nest Dodge? Flashing Dragon Flash? Nested Egg Farts? Whatever it was, the technique tore his body apart. Cut him down to size, as the saying went. He stayed up on his feet and moved forward anyway.

He could take the punishment, especially when he remained at such close proximity to his target in order to limit the effectiveness of Amakusa's sword strikes. "Come on, Kumamoto. Next time, make it hurt."

Amakusa (or rather, the Amakusas) obliged the Bold Gan's request by splitting into multiple afterimages and delivering a couple of body stabs, a swarm of combination slashes to all his vital points, a looping strike that could've left him jawless had he not dodged in time, a rising upward cut that would've vivisected him and exposed his innards had he not hid behind his metallic bat to buffer the blow in time, and a double thrust that sent him staggering.

Blood entered the ruffian's eye from a cut above his forehead, so his aim and depth-of-field perception became off. He blinked away the blood, cursing his luck. 'If it isn't one thing, then it's another.'

In an attempt to acquire some breathing room in the middle of that horrendous exchange, the Dedicated Gan swung his bat from below his waist and right up at Kumamoto's jaw, the insurgent's head visibly reeling from the shot.

However, the Secret Christian was able to walk right through the attack regardless and continue his charge. What was this man made of? Was all this pain worth repaying Gan's debt of honor to a stranger?

A creaky voice in the Gregarious Gan's head whispered in his ear, 'Come on, Sonny-boy! You're walking at him in straight lines, so he can pretty much do whatever he wants! Use more feints or you'll end up like one of those practice straw dummies that can't fight back, that you will!'

Ergo, because Gan was Gan, he elected to do the exact opposite of what the old man in his mind recommended, moving forward and swinging both his blunt weapon and his balled-up fist with reckless abandon, like a real man would. From behind them, Patches shrieked as Amakusa struck at will, slashing away to the left... No, to the right. Wait! That was a feint. Goddamn cheater was using a feint before he did!

The crater where Kumamoto stood a second ago released plumes of dust reminiscent of the smoke from a dying campfire. Moreover, Gan's forearm dripped with a hot, red fluid from the nasty cut he got for his troubles.

"Stop prancing around and fight like a man!" Fuck, where'd Amakusa go? The Magnificent Gan swung his studded bat for dear life as soon as the red-haired bastard appeared in his line of sight; the swings would've knocked the Christian revolutionary out cold had they hit.

Fuckity fuck. He hated assholes like him. Kumamoto talked the talk, but when it came to fight time, the rebel's testicles shrunk to the size of peas as he played patty-cake with his opponents. "If you have the guts to call yourself a force of nature, then the least you could do is stop running away!"

"Gan, he's too fast! Stop walking into his strikes!" some know-it-all stated the obvious.

"Gan-chi! You're going to bleed to death at this rate!" some wig-haired girly boy chimed in. Whose side were they on? Were they really cheering for that cowardly religious nut who wouldn't stand still? Well, fuck them both sweetly in the ass.

Amakusa had a weak belly thanks to all his earlier encounters, right? The surviving Togakudan told them as much. Why couldn't the Great Gan punch Kumamoto's midsection more than once, then? 'It's because he keeps running away. He's no fighter, but a dancer. A poser. A pretender. A false savior. A major disappointment.'

"Stop scurrying around like a headless chicken and fight me for real!" Gan's foot got stabbed for his remark, but he managed to fishhook the hole in Amakusa's hand and headbutt the religious fanatic. 'Wait. Why does he have a hole in his hand?'

'You're a disappointment. Leave my midst,' a titan that rose from the depths of Gan's consciousness and towered to the heavens rebuked. 'You have lost the right to bear my name.'

Something struck the Disorientated Gan from behind his neck, which made him lurch over and bleed all over the floor he couldn't feel his hands and the shining steel blade kept on coming and coming splatters of blood covering the brown stains that had been the dried blood of the other people Amakusa probably killed oh shit oh Buddha where were the strikes coming from oh fuck oh fucking shit was that his finger flying off or was it his toe...?

"Minoe! Damn you, you pirate wannabe! Give me back my sword, or I swear you'll be wearing two eye patches once I'm done with you!"

"NO! You'll get killed too, Yahiko-chi!"

'...Killed _too_? So I'm already dead?' To think that they'd continue to say such selfish things without caring about other people's feelings. The nerve of some people! At any rate, Gan then heard a whoosh followed by the muted clunk of a sheathed blade.

'Ah, who am I kidding? It's obvious who the real disappointment here is. What the hell gave me the idea that I even stood a chance against Mister Force of Nature? He's completely out of my league. This guy was born with a sword in his hand, from the looks of it!'

'Sonny-boy! Remember to use feints! Your fighting style will have you swinging and attacking regardless, so you might as well use fake attacks to fool your opponents into making mistakes de gozaru! Make them hesitate! Let them fight at your pace! If you can add that to your fairly straightforward repertoire, you'll have full control of the match, that you will!' Nobuhiro-something-or-another prattled inside Gan's mind.

Just as soon as the Gory Gan espied Minoe moving in to block a couple of Amakusa's whirling strikes, he struck his studded metal stick into the floor and dug a splintered and uneven ditch mere inches away from the spy. "Stay out of this, Patches."

"Gan-chi, please! Enough is enough!" Patches begged.

The Blushing Gan's heart skipped a beat upon seeing Minoe's gleaming eyes... well, _eye_... but he ignored the feeling the best he could. How could someone with a wig and one eye look so cute? 'No, no. Don't be stupid. That's a guy.'

Because he was sick and tired of hearing the voices of old men, girly boys, and amateur wannabe fighters buzzing in and out his head, he changed the proverbial dial, station, or whatever the nineteenth-century equivalent of "channel" was to something more suited to his tastes. 'What would Weasel-chan say?'

'Ah, Aoshi-sama, how I long for your... What? What am I doing here? Gan? Is that you? Ew! Why are you thinking about _me_ at a time like this? Don't you dare fantasize about me, you gigantic, slimy, stinky, and perverted brute! Who knows what sick, twisted things your mind will do to your mental image of me? I better be dressed while you're imagining me, or I swear I'll make a skin coat out of you!'

'Weasel-chan is right! I've been fighting Kumamoto's fight. I'm letting him dictate the terms of the battle like some sort of dumbass. Who the hell does _ he_ think he is anyway? A god that descended to earth? Shit, this is the person whom people expected to save the world because some vaguely defined predictions written by a dead guy said so, which he may or may not have turned out to be self-fulfilling prophecies!'

The bandanna-wearing thug neutralized a rampaging Dou Ryu Sen headed straight towards him with his thundering Happa technique. 'I have to start using feints! Otherwise, I'm dead meat! Or better yet, let's create a distraction!' the Cunning Gan concluded before undoing his obi, slipping out of his pants, and wiggling his hairy butt at Kumamoto while farting.

"..." was the consensus reaction of everyone present and conscious to the hooligan's antics (save for Gan himself, of course).

"EEEEEEEEEEEEK!" Patches turned away and covered his exposed eye.

To Gan's credit, his actions really did stop the paling, blue-faced Amakusa in his tracks. It even froze Yoshi-boy and Patches too, he noticed. The trio afterwards retched and backed away from the Ingenious Gan. The distraction didn't last long, however.

"Ryu Tsui Sen Zan."

"AH! Let me put on my pants first! Stop thrusting that sword at me! Leave my butt alone! I DON'T SWING THAT WAY!" the Compromised Gan shouted with tears in his eyes at the cheating bastard he had for an adversary who attacked enemies before they were ready.

"Dammit, Gan. Don't make me cheer for Amakusa!"

"Gan-chi, you pervert!"

In the middle of the sticky drizzle filled with stabs, sweat, blood droplets, and mutilating near-hits that dyed his bandanna and fundoshi red, the Half-Naked Gan grabbed hold of Amakusa's blade and pulled him to the side, the sword turning into a bowl of scalding water in his imagination.

He looked at his searing fingers; they were all there. He sighed in relief as he smashed his tetsubo right onto Kumamoto's target-like chest. Another stab pushed Gan away, followed by slashes resembling the kanji for "eight" that gave him fish gills on the side of his ribs.

"Unlike your other so-called allies, are you prepared to kill me? Or are you just another fool rushing into places where even angels fear to tread?" Kumamoto asked, "unsheathing" his sword from Gan's grip, whirling, and disappearing from the ruffian's midst.

The sting from having a blade slide through his fingers until bone was exposed reminded Gan of punching scalding sand heated with a gigantic deep fryer atop an open bonfire.

'Wait a minute.'

The Grinning Gan answered Amakusa back by smashing the Christian's feet with a stomp and pouncing onto the tottering religious radical via a thudding shot to the liver that he'd been aiming for all throughout the fight. The thug himself remembered having the same discolored cracked toes and the black blots inside them when he was younger.

'He's just like me, that bastard.'

The Aggressive Gan landed his right hand before the rebel's upward slash reached its zenith, his fist producing a muffled crack over Amakusa's nose. When compared to punching a boulder or a brick, human cartilage were as soft as crackers.

While Amakusa choked in his own spit and blood, the Garrulous Gan took advantage of the situation and swung his bat in the opposite direction, hitting the other side of his opponent's midsection and forcing more blood and other unidentified bodily fluids to gush forth the luckless Kumamoto's mouth. A close stab at the ruffian's testicles had him back away, though.

Amakusa moved forward, only to retreat and fight his way out with Nikaido Heiho combinations in order to avoid the bat swing and uppercut to his body and head. The last strike... another Dragon Wrap Flash... was able to land, but the smile on Gan's face remained despite the spilled blood.

The Great Gan once fought the colossus from the depths of his nightmares with a broken arm in a bid to earn the right to bear his name. He lost, of course, but in light of what the uppity, hypocritical Kumamoto had been saying and doing all this time, he'd figured that the both of them weren't so different after all.

"I figured you out, Kumamoto. I may not look all that smart to you or anyone else, but even an imbecile like me can understand what you're all about."

"Whatever, dude! Put your pants back on!" called out Yoshi-boy, which totally ruined the mood of the moment.

* * *

_One hour and fifty minutes past midnight, inside the Shinshushin Manor's body-strewn ballroom... _

Gan remained on his feet. What was his reason for fighting? Strike after strike, wallop after wallop, bludgeon after bludgeon; he didn't let up for a second.

"You've figured me out? If you did, then you wouldn't be fighting me."

Something about Yahiko Myojin's burly companion bothered Amakusa, and he wasn't referring to the yakuza-like muscleman's lack of pants or his nonsensical claims of "figuring" him out like some sort of puzzle. Judging by how the boy and the spy halted in the middle of their attempted rescue of this "Gan" fellow, they probably noticed it too.

"I've said this before, and I'll say it again: I am a force of nature. You cannot beat typhoons and you cannot defeat earthquakes; you can only survive them."

Amakusa retaliated right after Gan put his trousers back on again. 'Is this idiot even taking this fight seriously?' The rebel rose to the ceiling and delivered a Ryu Tsui Sen right atop the buffoon's head.

"You're making that speech again? I admit that's a cool one-liner, bro. How does this sound, though? If lightning were to hit me, you'd have to take lightning to the hospital!"

Gan shrugged off the strike even as it opened a slit on his reddened (formerly white) bandanna. Amakusa wasn't imagining things; it was as though his strength had been severely sapped by the battles he'd gone through recently, his blade's sharpness had been dulled by the sheer amount of flesh it cut, or the small fry he'd been trying to cut into cubes so that he could move on to a bigger catch was made of iron.

"You act all high-and-mighty. You think you're some sort of god that will lead your people to salvation. People like you sicken me; you have everything fed to you with a silver spoon. You were born special. You don't have to _earn_ anything in order to be called great; it's your destiny to be great."

Shogo hit a pectoral, but produced nothing more than a slight nick of a wound although Gan didn't bother dodging. 'No, not iron. Rubber. This muscle-head's body is as hard to cut as vulcanized rubber. Can it be that he's employing the same technique as...?'

The Christian rebel snarled, but instead he sucked on air and panted after receiving more hard shots to the body. Wait, why was he panting?

In between breaths, Amakusa answered back, "Peace of mind makes the body healthy, but jealousy is like a cancer. Remember this: Some men are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. You are none of these three."

"You're good at making pretty speeches. Are you using your own words? Can you back them up?" Yet again, the insufferable grin of this irksome stranger remained. "You're calling me jealous? Maybe I am. Or maybe I _was_, but not anymore. From where I come from, I had to fight for the right to have a name. You were automatically presumed to be great."

Predictably, the devil-may-care Gan charged, swinging both fists and his metal bat, unmindful of the swelling of his shallow cuts and the flow of his deeper wounds. Amakusa abused the well-worn Ryu Sou Sen... the most effective technique in Shogo's arsenal best utilized against a swarm of enemies or a particularly durable foe... to the point that the ruffian could by then catch most of the vital-point-seeking slashes with his massive arms and elbows as well as his extra thick tetsubo, receiving minimal damage.

"I've heard your story. I heard it even before I came here to help Yoshi-boy out. You were supposed to be some sort of savior, right? The Son of God who'll rescue your people from an abusive government and a nation who doesn't give a damn about them and whatnot? The usual heroic stuff."

Amakusa took advantage of Gan's preoccupation with secondhand rumors by winding up his strike and delivering a Ryu Kan Sen blow to the black. He blanked out for a second and the next thing he knew, he was facing the floor. He felt up the inside of this throbbing mouth and spit a grainy object out; it was a split molar.

Shogo twisted his neck towards his talkative quarry and did his best to regain balance, his knees shaken and his head buzzing. A gash on the lower part of Gan's bulky neck signified to Amakusa that he hit his attack somewhat. "You don't know a thing about me. A little learning is a dangerous thing. A fool's attempt at knowledge only exposes his ignorance."

"I know enough. For you to be as fucked up as you are now, the people around you must've been feeding you all sorts of bullshit in regards to you being a god made flesh. Their expectations must've been sky high, weren't they? You hadn't even wiped off mommy's breast milk from your mouth yet, and they'd already expected you to move mountains and shit out gold!"

"Are you done talking?" A pointblank Hiryu Sen flew into Gan's jaw as a fist smashed into Amakusa's eye socket at the same time.

Gan ate up the multiple head-and-body strikes Shogo unleashed in order to deliver another nigh-beheading uppercut and a smash of the bat to the zealot's thigh. "Not really. Thing is, you'll be listening regardless. I'll make you listen."

A sweat-and-blood-drenched Amakusa attempted to counterattack with yet another Ryu Kan Sen, but his legs collapsed from underneath him while Gan went back to work punching, kicking, and hammering away at his twice-stabbed abdomen. Soon, his back was against the wall, and he saw nothing but bandaged fists and studded blunt objects hitting him over and over, occupying what little breathing room he had.

"No wonder you have a big enough ego to think you're a force of nature or the Savior of Japanese Christianity! You've gotten to the point where you think you're better than everyone else! However, that's actually the saddest part of your story."

Amakusa saw red, exploding with a Dou Ryu Sen that ripped the floor and Gan apart. He followed it up with countless slashes, strikes, parries, and ripostes that didn't have any specific names but wore down the implacable thug nonetheless. At the back of his mind, he saw a vision of his deceased father say, 'Shogo, you must become stronger. Like God himself!' amidst a whole army of sword-and-spear-wielding, petrified samurai.

"How old were you when you first learned those fancy moves of yours? Did you even have a childhood to speak of? Did your parents seriously expect you, a little kid, to turn into an unstoppable god of divine justice during a point in your life when you haven't even accomplished a damn thing yet?"

"SILENCE! THAT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" Shogo wheezed, his lungs deflating like popped balloons inside his body after he exhaled from the effort of leaping up and performing a Ryu Kan Sen Arashi that drove back the behemoth before him even as his brain thudded inside his skull with another blunt shot to the head.

Afterwards, he remembered his mother's last words to him before she died. 'Shogo, you are a child who will someday become the leader of men. Discard your feelings and become the guiding light that Shimabara needs.' All that time, Gan never stopped ripping his bat or fist into every part of Amakusa's black-and-blue torso.

"In many ways, you too had to fight to earn the right to your name. Your greatest enemy was the Amakusa Shogo... Oh, wait, sorry... the 'Second Coming of Amakusa Shiro' that your people thought you were. You failed to live up to your hype, didn't you? Even though you supposedly killed a thousand soldiers and policemen, countless other Kakure Kirishitan died in your watch. What a damn shame."

For Amakusa, the already dank atmosphere of the room full of freshly killed corpses seemingly transformed into swamp gas before his eyes as they watered in either grief or lack of oxygen. He drowned in air like a fish out of water, gasping for something he could hardly breathe. He recalled the cavalcade of soldiers marching towards him, their rifles at the ready as they surrounded him. His moment of truth.

"SHOGO-SAMA!" Minoe winked into existence in the midst of Gan and Amakusa, his reverse-edged short sword at the ready, but a simple backhand from the bandanna-wearing thug put a stop to his efforts at intervening and sent him crashing into the western-style double doors leading into the dining room.

"Sorry, Patches. This needs to happen."

Shogo's worn, half-closed eyes traveled towards Yahiko, who stood there while clutching his half-sheathed, reverse-bladed weapon, inching forward one step forward and two steps back as though he were dancing to a nonexistent drumbeat only he heard. 'So he got his toy sword back already.'

"Did you really think that you can carry the hopes and dreams of your people on your back without you getting crushed by their incredible weight? It must've been tough trying to live under the shadow of an unrealistic ideal that only existed in the deluded minds of your loved ones and followers!"

Amakusa's strained grunts were drowned out in the cacophony of pounded flesh, the clang of iron and steel, and his awareness fading from white to black. He moved as though submerged underwater, his bleeding lungs filled with shards of glass, and his heart poisoned with carbon dioxide. Each breath felt like a garrote-assisted suicide.

"It's time for your wakeup call, Kumamoto! Life doesn't work that way! You're no Son of God! You're just a Son of Man; a human being that's flawed and incapable of bearing the sins of the world by yourself."

'Sayo. Mother. Father. Uncle. Pray for me in Heaven. Body of Christ, save me...'

As Amakusa expected, the banal, simpleminded Gan stampeded like a raging bull once more, which served his purposes quite nicely. At the same time, he felt movement in the corner of his eyes; either Yahiko or Minoe had recovered from their shellshock. He didn't care which.

'The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. He is my God, and I will praise him, my father's God, and I will exalt him.'

His flurry of slashes whistled into the air and sliced the cleft of Gan's chin; the only part of the muscular gangster within his striking range. He missed. He misjudged the distance. He overextended himself to compensate, which worsened his situation.

"That's the Elusive Tiger Feint, bitch!" came Gan's triumphant avowal as he swung his mighty metal bat with every last bit of strength left in his muscled body, the blow producing several muffled cracks from within the vulnerable Shogo that led him to expel bubbling blood, saliva, mucus, and vomit from his oral and nasal orifices a second time.

Nevertheless, Amakusa stayed up on his feet. He didn't stop fighting for one second. Even as his legs betrayed him like Judas Iscariot did to Jesus Christ and his strength left him as though he were the Samson who had his hair cut off by Delilah, he kept on swinging his lengthy blade to the bitter end.

* * *

_Two hours past midnight, inside the Shinshushin Mansion's body-strewn ballroom... _

Shogo Amakusa wouldn't go down. Why did he keep on fighting? Was he really that deluded or brainwashed into thinking he was the savior of his people? Slash after slash, cut after cut, slice after slice; he stood his ground as though the sky would fall if he didn't.

"Give up your god delusion right now. It's about time you stopped living your life according to the expectations of others!" Gan's own words struck a chord inside him; he wondered if he'd been lecturing Amakusa or himself all this time.

Inwardly, Gan gasped for dear life, his nostrils and lungs working overtime to wake his lightheaded self up as the world shuddered and lost its color before him.

Several times, his irises unfocused and rolled up to the top of his head until only his sclera became visible. How many years of his life did he lose in this one fight? That was presuming, of course, that he'd live to see another sunrise after it.

'No. I'm almost there. Kumamoto is the one running on fumes now.' Gan stopped for a moment to think. 'Wait, what does that mean, 'running on fumes'? A tired horse powered by his own farts? I think of the strangest things sometimes.'

Unable to jump any longer... his wings clipped and his strength sapped... the blue-faced Shogo wailed a hoarse battle cry as he again scraped the edge of his sword on the floor so that it'd serve as his leverage of sorts in order to pull off unsheathing techniques without using a scabbard.

Amakusa landed his strike, but he had to enter the Indomitable Gan's attacking range in order to do so. Lacking a saya to cover up his vulnerabilities, the Hidden Christian fell victim to the hooligan's sickening combinations and thudding straight right hands that felt like bricks.

The charismatic Kakure Kirishitan leader managed to execute back-to-back Ryu Kan Sen Tsumuji and Ryu Kan Sen Kogarashi that left a pair of nasty lacerations on Gan's back before succumbing to the pressure and punishment of the thug's cracking right uppercuts and battering tetsubo swings that forced the zealot to take a knee and curl up into a protective ball.

He flopped down to the ground a moment later, his scarlet face scuffed up and swelling beyond recognition. It was over. The Glorious Gan had won the war of attrition. He dropped on all fours, his fresh sheen of sweat making his injuries sting and sizzle like a Sunnyside up egg on a frying pan.

"Holy shit, Gan. Holy shit." Yahiko's hands went over his head, the sharp tufts of his hair jutting over his clenched fists, the strap for his inherited straw hat chafing him somewhat because he was too busy being flabbergasted to adjust it. "Are you okay? Also, just who the hell are you supposed to be? A former Shinsengumi member? A bodyguard for hire? A hitman? How'd you manage to beat Amakusa?"

"I'm fine, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm just another bum who happens to know a thing or two about manliness and brawling. I'm a man of many talents." Gan chuckled as he closed Yahiko's agape mouth from the chin up with his finger. He winced after his chuckling worsened his collection of cuts, lacerations, and bruises from Amakusa.

The Tokyo Samurai Descendant harrumphed. "Your feigned humility pisses me off. Cut that out."

"Guess what, Yoshi-boy? I've beaten a force of nature. Maybe I should take on a volcanic eruption or a hurricane next," the spent Gan said to the shell-shocked Yahiko while eyeing the person-sized hole Minoe left after he punched the spy's clock from today to next week.

It was Yahiko's turn to slump down on the ground along with his brawny food bandit companion whom he'd met the other day, his brain trying its best to digest the surprisingly powerful hooligan's words. 'The meat-bun-munching son of a bitch actually did it. What do you know?'

Yahiko moved his head in time to see Minoe standing over both him and Gan, the spy's short sword held with a reverse grip. Thanks to the lighting of the room, the front part of the turnip-banged, eye-patch-wearing man-child's body that faced the other two Sanbaka was covered in shadow. "Minoe."

"Sorry about hitting you earlier, Patches. Don't worry, I didn't kill your precious Kumamoto. I hope that counts for something and I also hope you're not too mad at me for kicking his ass. He deserved it," Gan said without looking at the Togakudan secret agent's face.

For the longest time, Minoe and Yahiko stared... glared... looked... at each other, both their right hands tightly gripping the handles of their respective weapons, when all of a sudden, Munenori pointed with his free hand and squeaked, "S-S-Shogo-sama... is a-alive?"

"Well, yeah. Didn't I just tell you, Patches? I only beat him within an inch... of... his... Holy fucking piss on a shit. Don't you know when to quit, Kumamoto?" Just opposite Minoe and right in front Gan stood the trembling yet defiant Shogo Amakusa.

The Christian insurgent snapped his eyes open so rapidly, it appeared as if his eyelids were ripped off.

"You can take on natural disasters now? No. You're mistaken. You've only survived so far. Let me show you what I'm truly capable of," Shogo declared before taking a glass orb that appeared like, for all intents and purposes, a snow globe from underneath his robes, tossed it up, and sliced it cleanly in half with his sword.

"With this Gadamer Gem, I shall ascend to a higher plane of existence and fulfill the expectations of my people. Repent and reflect on your own powerlessness. Rai Ryu Sen."

Because he was exhausted beyond belief, Amakusa was forced to use his ultimate attack, the Rai Ryu Sen. While Battousai was more battoujutsu-oriented and Seijuro Hiko the Thirteenth abused the Kuzu Ryu Sen to no end, the Dragon Lightning Flash served as Shogo's signature move, which was a technique he invented by combining the basic principles of Nikaido Heiho and Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu together. Hyoue Nishida himself favored the Ryu Kan Sen for some reason.

"What the fuck is a Gadamer?" Gan wondered aloud before witnessing an overwhelming blanket of white envelop everything in sight. His dilated pupils' enlarged aperture absorbed unto it every last light source within the room as reflected by Shogo's shining blade, which activated his eyes' light-sensitive cells and resulted in a flash of sorts that incapacitated him for about five seconds.

'Rai Ryu Sen...?' Unlike Gan, Yahiko shut his eyes in time to avoid taking the full brunt of the stunning Dragon Lightning Flash. An unmoving, wavy afterimage of Amakusa brandishing a glowing sword that was seemingly made of light persisted in his vision, as though it were burned right into his retinas. From behind the Tokyoite, Minoe covered his exposed eye and retreated to the corner.

Afterwards, something curious happened to the Myojin boy. His skin became warmer while rivulets of sweat dripped across his drenched and aching body even though for the better part of the last twenty minutes, Gan was the one exerting the most effort in bringing down Shogo. He opened his eyes, only to reel at what he saw.

An infinite hallway with flying clothes, a gigantic domino set that had already fallen save for the last piece, crossbows without arrows disappearing into one point, a single large spear, a silhouette of a man not doing the fandango, and tiles that alternated in different shades of purple and blue.

Upon closer inspection, Yahiko realized that the floating clothes were not clothes at all but a jumping horse with gigantic hooves, and the spear was actually held by a samurai, and the crossbows were wielded by archers who all looked like pieces of attire from afar. Yahiko smiled, laughed, and cried. Gan did the same once his own vision cleared, but in reverse order so that he'd retain his uniqueness.

The horse spoke, and both Gan and Yahiko realized it wasn't a horse at all, but a man with a shining sword. Amakusa the Shogo. Shogo the Amakusa. White Amakusa. Shiro Shogo Amakusa. Tokisada Amakusa Shiro Shogo Muto. Whoever he was, he soon spoke of words that made less sense to Gan and Yahiko than his name.

"Who has ascended up into heaven, or descended? Who has gathered the wind in his fists? Who has bound the waters in a garment? Who has established all the ends of the earth? What is his name, and what is his son's name, if you can't tell?"

"Spare me the speech. Haven't you learned your lesson yet, Kumamoto?" asked Gan.

"Despite what you've claimed, I will meet and exceed the expectations of my people. Unlike you, I won't become a disappointment," answered Amakusa.

Gan spat at the ground. "You rat bastard."

From thereon end, things started to get really strange.

The Holy Mighty One's feet rose from the ground as his bloodstained garments were bathed with immaculate brightness. He metamorphosed before the Three Stooges, his clothes transforming into a dazzling white that all the world's bleach couldn't provide and glowing tendrils of plasma that effused his katana with electricity and fire. Even the holes in his feet and hands burned bright with streaks of flame.

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God, but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men."

A halo of luminosity surrounded the Sacred Immortal's head while his hair floated in every which way as though he were underwater. Meanwhile, the center of his crucifix scar featured an ornate heart that produced two different colored rays of radiance; because his blood and sweat poured out of his chest like a forgiving spring of trust for his people, they were represented by shafts of red light from his right side and beams of white from his left side.

"The perfect and gifted should not be punished for their perfection or their giftedness. I am not ashamed of being great. It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect. Therefore, I shall be perfect as the heavenly Father is perfect."

On the left of the Exalted One was the Blessed Virgin Lady Magdalia, a woman of about twenty years of age with chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes (his precious sister, his queen, his source of perpetual strength, the sweetness of hope) dressed in lilac and peach, a single line of blood dripping from her serene smile. On the right side of the Anointed One was the martyr and saint known as Shozo Lorenzo, an apostle of Amakusa who epitomized supreme loyalty and devotion, the heroic Soldier of Christ and the unyielding defender of the faith.

"Hey, Yoshi-boy?" Gan ventured.

"Yeah?" Yahiko replied.

"I'm not the only one seeing all this crazy shit, right?" Gan specified.

"I'm afraid so," Yahiko confirmed. 'That aura of light surrounding Amakusa... Is that the full manifestation of his kenki? I can't believe what I'm seeing.'

"All right. Let's get this over with." Ignoring the moans, groans, and lamentations of his muscles, tendons, joints, skin, and bones, the Great Gan held aloft the hunk of metal he claimed to be his weapon and said, "I don't know what magic trick you did to look like a walking Bon Festival, but stop it. Act like a normal person. You're not god. You're not a natural disaster... so to speak. A 'god' doesn't get his ass kicked by some asshole with a metal bat. Go back to sleep."

"And I beheld Satan as he fell from Heaven like lightning."

The infinite hallway shattered like glass after the Amakusa the Most Holy disappeared and reappeared from behind Gan in one third of a second.

"Ryu Sou Sen Garami."

Gan gurgled while the breeze produced by the rebel's seeming teleportation ruffled the hair and clothes of Yahiko and Minoe.

"G-Gan?" Yahiko queried, a hard-to-swallow feeling of dread stuck in his esophagus, choking him with fear. "Are you all right?"

Minoe went as pallid as Rin Akahori usually was as he fell to his knees with a soft thud. "No... Please, no."

"Don't worry Patches! Yoshi-boy! I won't die even if you kill me!" Gan turned towards Yahiko and Minoe, a smile frozen on his face.

Gan guffawed, which made his fingers fall off one by one. He laughed even harder, which made his arms and parts of his thick body follow suit. He bellowed the heartiest cackle he could muster, which reduced him to falling chunks of bloody meat cubes.

It took a second for everyone in the room, including Gan's killer, to comprehend what had transpired. A second later, tears fell; the Sanbaka was no more, so henceforth came howling and gnashing of teeth.

"GAN!"

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next:**Guilt and regrets.

_I'm taking several artistic liberties when it comes to "recycling" filler arc villains in this continuation fanfic, which is readily apparent by the way Amakusa's anime origin was slightly retconned for the purposes of this story's continuity. _

_Gan paraphrases the great Colin Mochrie from "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" fame with the narrative quip of "There was only one thing I could do." Meanwhile, the "If lightning were to hit me..." quote was taken from renowned boxing historian Bert Sugar's assessment of Margarito after the first Miguel Cotto versus Antonio Margarito fight._

**Taas noo kahit kanino,_  
_**Abdiel


	22. Chapter 22

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_Writing the Gan versus Amakusa fight was fun. Also, we're nearing the climax of the present arc._

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 22: The Second Coming of the Son of God**

* * *

'I AM THE SOBA KING! GUWAHAHAHAHAHA!' the Gan inside Yahiko's head boasted, which spurred the stunned boy into action.

"...sealed with the blood of Christ, he may come before you free from sin. Amen," murmured the shining Amakusa before he weaved, bobbed, and bent backwards to avoid the Tokyo Samurai Descendant's wild strikes, sensing the boy's bloodlust.

"AMAKUSA! I'LL KILL YOU!" screamed Yahiko.

The shining, beatific Shogo harrumphed. "You should've decided that from the start."

In an instant, Yahiko sunk low in a spray of tears and sweat before delivering a stiff Ryu Sho Sen to Amakusa's chin as the shimmering Christian revolutionary straightened up his body to regain his balance, which sent him right into the middle of the nearest staircase in a mess of splayed limbs, dust, and wooden splinters.

'...W-What?'

Curiously, the golden halo of light around the insurgent's head and his flaming bodily aura flickered from the assault. However, he recovered and went back to a vertical base in a second, brushing away the debris on his shoulder then blocking the teen's subsequent strikes as they climbed the steps in a dance where blunt force and unbelievable sharpness collided.

Amakusa said, "Your name is Myojin Yahiko, isn't it? Give up. Your parents will surely be saddened to never see their son again because he has become part of a communal grave of unidentified corpses. If you don't want to end up like your friend or the Gunma and Kamiminochi Units of Akahori's Police Army, then you should stand down."

Yahiko answered, "My parents are both dead, and I have no intention of standing down!"

The Myojin kid continued his charge regardless, so Amakusa parried and rebuked him, stating, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men."

"I have no idea what a Satan is supposed to be. I am curious, though; did you give the same, 'You can leave now if you want,' ultimatum to Keisuke and his Fake Battousai Group when you massacred them too, Mister Battousai of Style? For someone who's allegedly been 'forced' to kill people, you sure have a real knack for it!"

"What? Fake Battousai Group...?" Amakusa mouthed with a raised eyebrow.

Yahiko's assault sputtered and lost momentum after hearing Amakusa's confused tone. 'He is the red-haired, cross-scarred man that wiped out all of Keisuke's men, right? Only a member of the Juppon Gatana or a one-man army who killed a thousand policemen like him could've done so.'

The Tokyoite then glanced around for any sign of Minoe; he found none. 'He's gone... Fine. It's better this way.'

'I'll call you Kitsune-chi, and I'll have you and hug you and love you because you're my little Kitsune-chi, Kitsune-chi!' The eye-patched man giggled inside Yahiko's psyche.

Every swipe Yahiko did, the kenki-infused Amakusa parried to the side with slashes of fluctuating strength and speed while he backed away, each of them aimed at the flat side of the sakabatou instead of its blunted part in order to prevent getting his katana broken by the God Hammer technique.

'I'm too slow. If only I could handle the weight of the sakabatou the same way Kenshin did when he was at his prime, then nobody would've had to die today. A year later, and it's still too heavy for me to handle. If only I were stronger... Dammit!' Yahiko thought, the outlandish memory of Gan hooting and hollering till his body fell apart piece-by-piece renewing his rage and resolve.

Meanwhile, Amakusa himself surmised, 'I get it now. This boy is the one who fought Akahori's head bodyguard on the night those criminals from Shinshu who pretended to be part of our Battousai Group were wiped out by Morinaga. This was the child who risked life and limb in order to break the Ten Ken's katana under the mistaken assumption that Seta Soujiro murdered all those people. Is this the reason why you're so intrigued by him, Morinaga?'

Yahiko's thousands of repetitions when it came to Kamiya Kasshin Ryu's unique brand of dodging, slipping, and blocking enabled him to weather the storm of whirling steel once Shogo decided to counterattack. However, Amakusa observed that most of the blocked hits were from his Ryu Sou Sen, while it took the boy sometime to figure out the one-eight-ten combinations from the sword school of his father, the late Tokisada Muto.

'Could it be possible that this boy is somehow connected to the real Battousai himself? Reverse-edged swords are hardly commonplace weapons, and he seems a bit too familiar with how Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu works, like that one annoying policeman from the Tokyo District who kept me from wiping out his unit because he knew what techniques I was using. Come to think of it, I think he and that copper knew each other.'

Even though he held his ground for the most part, the recent Kuzu Ryu Sen Yahiko received left him struggling to focus on his task, his muscles feeling wobbly, his legs throbbing, and his body stiffening like hardened plaster. Countless cuts, contusions, and half-blocked attacks still came through for Shogo.

'Does that mean that the rumor about Himura Kenshin taking up a non-killing vow and brandishing a reverse-edged sword was true? I thought that balderdash was a false lead! I hope Captain Ujiki's claims that Battousai is now a cripple are also false,' Amakusa debated inside his mind.

Before Shogo the Divine knew it, they'd reached the atrium of the ballroom's upper deck, his lackadaisical blocks and parries powerless against Yahiko's determination to land a hit, his fighting spirit pushing him back.

'Sure thing, Yoshi-boy. I'll stop just as soon as I lose all of my common sense and do whatever it is strangers tell me to do!' Gan had hollered at a livid Yahiko the other day during their momentous chase around Shinshu thanks to the hooligan's unpaid food tab.

'HEY, wait a minute! Yahiko! My name is Yahiko! YA-HI-KO! Who the heck are you calling 'Yoshi'? And what the heck's a 'Yoshi' anyway? I don't look like a 'Yoshi'!' Yahiko shot back at the time.

"I won't let you win," the sixteen-year-old teenager told Amakusa.

"Win? This isn't a contest. You don't even have anything to do with why I'm here. If you people had let me kill Akahori from the very start, then none of this senseless bloodshed would've happened. I was willing to compromise. You weren't. You only have yourselves to blame."

"BASTARD! How dare you? Don't pin your crimes on your victims! It's insufferable, shameless assholes like you whom I hate the most! SHIPPU JINRAI DOTOU NO KEN!"

A technique Yahiko learned from the Joetsukan Dojo's Shibata Ryu in Yokohama that was incorporated into his personal Kamiya Kasshin Ryu arsenal, the Gale Thunderclap Billow Sword was a quick and sharp disarming move aimed specifically at the Left or Right Wrist or "Kote" as well as the "Yoko-Men" (Upper Right Head) and "Sayu-Men" (Upper Left Head) of the opponent.

Amakusa parried the Shippu Jinrai Dotou no Ken with ease, but Yahiko kept shifting from that move to the sword-breaking Tsui Gami, which forced Shogo back in order to keep his wrists safe and his blade from getting chipped or outright shattered from the varying attacks. 'Annoying little brat.'

Just beyond this sakabatou-wielding amateur was Akahori: Amakusa's last chance at redemption. He'd cross the bridge leading to the Battousai once he got there. Right now, he had other issues to take care of and prioritize. He'd become God once more for the sake of defeating his personal Satan.

Yahiko's back ended up against the same railing Akahori held while delivering his speech to encourage his troops a short while back, the reopened injuries he'd suffered thanks to experiencing the Nine-Headed Dragon Flash twice within a three week period limiting his movement.

Was this what Shogo meant by claiming himself a force of nature? He used the same techniques as Kenshin and Hiko had, but possessed none of their grace or deliberateness. He could be faster than the ex-vagabond... the boy found that debatable... but he sported none of the Battousai's battle-tested savvy and cunning, in the Tokyoite's opinion.

Also, the Christian leader was about as violent and dominant as Seijuro Hiko the Thirteenth, but he didn't possess the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu master's complete control over his unfettered might. Endless aggression, wasted power; a formidable opponent, but a different animal altogether.

'I will not fall to someone inferior to either Kenshin or his master. No way.'

"Come now. No speech about me having delusions of grandeur or being some sort of hypocrite? I've heard them all. What's your take?" The transfigured Shogo increased the pressure by pouring every last offensive technique in his arsenal, from the Ryu Tsui Sen to the Ryu Kan Sen to the Dou Ryu Sen that sheared the flooring Yahiko walked on to a metaphoric needlepoint.

"I'm done talking. Let me show you what I mean." A metal sheath to the rejuvenated Amakusa's eye woke him up from his reverie, followed by multiple counterstrikes to the body that compounded the damage that warriors like the late Sergeant Isao Askikaga, Lieutenant Okami Yamazaki, Captain Mitsuru Ujiki, and Gan had already contributed.

'What in the world...?' Although Amakusa's brain didn't register any of the pain from the counterassault... his robust lungs breathing without any trouble while his oxygen-rich blood clotted his wounds and reinvigorated his tired body... the facade of health made him even more cautious.

"Ryu Sou Sen Garami!" said Shogo.

"Tsuka no Gedan: Hiza Hijiki!" retorted Yahiko, ducking under the one point that the technique concentrated on attacking.

Amakusa's knees buckled from the counterattack before the move he used to finish off Gan could even hit the nimble Yahiko.

The last Rai Ryu Sen Shogo executed served as his version of master-level Hyoki no Jutsu, otherwise known as self-hypnosis. A Nikaido Heiho expert could deploy Hyoki no Jutsu unto himself in order to trick his body into functioning at peak performance and unleashing dormant potential without regard of dire consequences such as wear and tear.

Even though his body didn't register pain, it didn't necessarily mean he was invulnerable. The only thing that his Rai Ryu Sen did was turn off the alarms in his mind and removed his biological safeguards that kept him from worsening his critical condition.

His midsection remained a mess. His body was still battered to a pulp. If the boy could tee off on him at will, his mission could be put into jeopardy regardless of his lack of pain. His endorphin rush could only do so much. The interloper before him must go down.

Yahiko's mouth remained a thin, flat line while his eyes appeared glassy thanks to their dilated pupils. His mind went blank. His heart slowed its beats. His body was at its limit. His muscles remembered that perfect strike against Soujiro... the indefinable technique that was neither Kamiya Kasshin Ryu or Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu in nature... a move he could call his own.

'How harsh! I was only trying to help,' the Minoe within Yahiko's tired heart bemoaned as he fluttered his eyelids and stretched his hands towards the boy like a scorned lover.

Amakusa willed his faltering yet pain-deprived body to move forward and bombard Yahiko with a composite version of Nikaido Heiho kanji strikes and Ryu Sou Sen slashes, the smooth calligraphic movements meshing well with the hard, sharp, and accurate slices of the Dragon Nest Flash.

The spiky-haired teenager blocked and parried the nonstop volley, which left the rebel's sword seemingly trembling with fear. 'Fear? Nonsense. He's hitting my katana so hard and accurately, he's turning it into a tuning fork. It could break at any moment!'

Amakusa reacted in kind by mixing up his offense and increasing his amount of angles to minimize sakabatou-to-katana contact. Yahiko neutralized this with the dual Kamiya Kasshin Ryu Ougi of Hadome and Hawatari, his heavy, Hawatari-assisted body shots against Shogo piling up slowly but surely. Even the Nikaido Heiho techniques that Yahiko had trouble with earlier were countered.

They were at the exact same impasse they experienced back when they first clashed swords at the Shinshushin Manor's open yard; the irresistible force versus the immovable object. In real life, there were no irresistible forces or immovable objects; something always had to give, and earlier in their battle, that something was Yahiko Myojin.

Shogo bided his time, adjusting the direction of his strikes against the teenager's impenetrable defense so that Yahiko would be forced to move his body in compromising positions that aggravated the wounds he already had. The rebel's red and white light shone through with each strike, overwhelming the darkness within the boy's raging heart.

"AMAKUSA! EAT THIS!" Although Yahiko missed his chance at shattering the surprisingly tough blade, his horizontal slash formed a welt at the flat part of Amakusa's cross scar, the thudding blow producing a spray of red and white not unlike the rebel's mystifying aura.

"You Philistine...!" Just as the angelic Shogo prepared to unleash the onslaught of another Kuzu Ryu Sen, his body went inert, his muscles paralyzed from the neck down. From there, like a vacuum would to light, he felt his kenki get sapped by his opponent's complete lack of living energy; an blank void of immeasurable depth and denseness.

"T-The Lord is good. When trouble comes, he is a strong refuge. A-And he knows everyone who t-t-trusts in him. But h-he sweeps away his enemies in an overwhelming flood. He pursues his foes into the darkness o-of... night!"

Yahiko aimed at the vibrating blade, and Amakusa compelled his numb and paralyzed body to block the thrice-hitting Tsui Gami with his arm, dislocating it.

The lustrous Amakusa felt the wind knocked out of him as he set the jutting, out-of-place bone back into place with a stomach-turning crunch. It didn't hurt, but it exhausted his numb body. With the strength of his indomitable willpower, he forced his injured arm to move.

The follow-up body strikes that should've ended the match right then and there never came; the blinding agony and blood loss from the Nine-Headed Dragon Flash had rendered Yahiko's legs into a rubbery mess. The first one to rise to the occasion and deliver the final blow was the winner.

A minute passed, followed by another. After the fifth one, the gasping combatants stood as one and charged at each other.

"KUZU RYU SEN!"

'Ugh. That was gross. But anyway, time to go! Ninpou: Kakuremi no Jutsu!' announced the frowning and retching Minoe in Yahiko's mind's eye as he did a poor impersonation of a ninja attempting to become invisible in order to sneak away and escape.

"..." Yahiko's eyes adjusted itself, the flowery rainbow afterimage morphing into Amakusa's first strike as though time slowed itself down for his sake. At that point, his body moved on his own, his muscle memory remembering the same state of emptiness he experienced when faced against Soujiro Seta's Shukuchi.

In an eye blink and a sigh, the real Minoe appeared in front of Yahiko and did something that the Tokyo Samurai Descendant had only seen one other time in his lifetime: He blocked each and every last strike of the Nine-Headed Dragon Flash with a blunt wakizashi, the sparks from the high friction exchange igniting all at once like an ornate fireworks display. Enishi Yukishiro himself took a while before learning to block the powerful technique.

"M-Minoe! You came back! Thanks, I..." Yahiko sputtered, but he trailed off after his rescuer invaded his personal space and addressed him with a bright, dilated eye that reflected his flummoxed face back at him.

"Goodbye. Please forget that any of this ever happened," the eye-patched effeminate man requested before pushing the teenager off the ledge of the vestibule and turning his back to once again confront Shimabara's One-Man Army.

"Minoe, please be safe!" Yahiko cried out to the petite secret agent, but he never heard a "

!" back from him as he blacked out on the floor down below with a resounding crash.

* * *

_An hour and fifteen minutes past midnight, inside Akahori's designated study... _

"Father?" the wind whispered.

Tetsuo Akahori limped into the hall even as the sounds of battle down below his study's veranda continued to erupt like fireworks at New Years' Eve. He grabbed hold of his face with a gloved hand, his spectacles glinting in the lamplight.

'Is this yet another one of those hallucinations caused by Amakusa's Rai Ryu Sen? No, that technique wasn't the Rai Ryu Sen at all; I've stolen the true Rai Ryu Sen from Amakusa many years ago.' Akahori did his best to stand up using the nearby table as leverage. He'd stabbed himself a little too deep with his letter opener earlier in order to wake up from the hypnotic, suffocating stupor Shogo left him in earlier.

'That... thing Amakusa did doesn't deserve to be called Rai Ryu Sen. Using drugs to simulate a technique he could no longer do by himself is beyond pathetic.' Every other breath of Akahori's had a whistling wheeze, so he knew that the effects of Shogo's Rai Ryu Sen (watered-down as it might have been) remained in his system.

"Father," came another soft, unmistakable sigh.

'There it is again. It's faint, but I can hear it. Why won't it leave me alone?' the sweaty, middle-aged man demanded as he stumbled over the bookcase and let loose several tomes on the floor, his legs unbalanced and burning with a fire he couldn't put out no matter how hard he tried.

His hands. His hand smoldered in memory of the past. The incorrigible Meiji Government (or rather, the Ishin Shishi who eventually became part of the hanbatsu) attempted to erase him from their midst the same way they did with Makoto Shishio, the Sekihoutai, the Shinsengumi, Hajime Saito, Kaisho Katsu, Shinsaku Tagasuki, Kogoro Katsura, Toshimichi Okubo, and Takamori Saigo.

He remembered that, even in the middle of the infernal conflagration of hell, his little girl mewed the same word over and over again without panicking... like a true Akahori. He grabbed hold of the door where she lay there calling for him over and over the roar of the raging blaze, without any regard to the flesh-eating flames on the crackling door. He burned from the inside out.

"Father, it's me."

However, that was merely a memory. He had more important issues to attend to at the moment. He rifled through his desk drawer, discarded his Colt Single-Action Revolver, and picked up a firearm that earned more widespread use among the old Satsuma forces and the signature weapon of the famous Bakumatsu hero, Ryoma Sakamoto: A Smith and Wesson Army Number Two. He also took two bandoliers full of speedloaders for his revolver and tucked them inside his coat.

His sweaty head snapped up in attention after hearing several knocks on the wall. "Are you in there, Father?"

They'd set their trap, hadn't they? The bastards. Like Tagasuki and Saigo, he had no intention of going down without a fight. Not after everything he'd done and sacrificed for the Ishin Shishi and the hanbatsu.

The best years of his life were wasted all for the sake of maintaining stability in an inherently corrupt nation. If he were to perish, then he'd make damn well sure that they were going to go down with him.

No. Wait. That wasn't it. It wasn't the leaders of the Meiji Government that he should be afraid of. What was he supposed to do again?

He heard a creak from above the ceiling. He turned. Hanging feet greeted him back. Familiar, socked feet. The stench invaded his nostrils and seared his lungs. He howled and nearly pulled the trigger of his handgun while its barrel was in his mouth.

'I need to wake up. This is a nightmare. I need to wake up in order to deal with Amakusa once and for all. Get a hold of yourself, Tetsuo.'

He swung the door open and hobbled right in the middle of the hall, his revolver cocked and ready. Before him stood the apparition of a milky-haired, alabaster-skinned, and slate-gray-eyed ghost from beyond.

"Father, it's me. Rin."

"You don't fool me! My daughter is in the safe hands of my bodyguard, Seta-kun." He aimed his Smith and Wesson at the ghoulish specter. "I want to wake up. I have no time to waste on you, spirit. Leave me be!"

A gunshot resounded in the hallway; from an outsider's perspective, the muffled bang didn't stand out from all the other, louder, and unremitting rifle blasts from within the yard.

* * *

Yahiko woke up staring at the ceiling after hearing a thunderous boom that shook the entire manor and rendered the staircase a couple of yards away from him into a rickety mess. He then concentrated on clearing his double vision, his head pounding like a drum. What happened exactly? What time was it? What was he doing lying in the middle of a stranger's house?

Was he protecting his mother from one of her rougher customers again? No, wait, she was already dead. Was the yakuza beating him up again? No, wait, he was already freed from the yakuza by Kenshin. Was he blown away by that man who flew like a bat and threw dynamite around with reckless abandon? No, wait, he already defeated him. How about the man with a mouth of a whale? Or that bald guy with the multi-section stick? He defeated them too, although Kujiranami was more of a... draw, if anything else, since Kenshin was the one who put Whale Mouth down for the count.

Was he involved in a carriage accident? Trampled and knocked out by horses? Nearly killed by Psycho-Kid? How long had he been asleep? Minutes? Hours? Days? Years? Well, maybe not years.

He then realized he'd fallen. More importantly, he was pushed by a certain wigged, bandaged, and eye-patched "land pirate" spy known as Munenori Minoe. He looked around. The remains of the murdered Togakudan was beside him. In fact, one of them helped break his fall. He resisted the urge to hurl.

The bodies hadn't stiffened yet, so he deduced that he hadn't been down and out for long. On that note, who knew that being friends with Chief Uramura and Officer Kosaburo would have its benefits, such as knowing how rigor mortis worked?

Breathlessly, Yahiko thought, '...Minoe!' after remembering that Amakusa's former fan had essentially substituted himself for the Tokyoite in order to confront the humanoid typhoon that wanted some random politician (albeit someone with connections to Shinshu cockfighting and Sanosuke's father) dead.

He gaped at the whittled railing where he had stood while battling it out against Shogo Amakusa: the same place where Minoe teleported from out of nowhere, shoved him away, and saved him from receiving the full brunt of the third Kuzu Ryu Sen he'd seen that week. He was lucky to survive with his limbs intact the first and second time it was used against him.

What did he just witness the last forty-five minutes or so? What did his eyes see and his mind comprehend after seeing so many deaths in his midst? Blinded by his own rage, he could barely remember how he forced Amakusa up to the upper deck above, much less figure out what had happened beforehand. All he could recall was his feelings over Gan's... then his mind blanked out with visions of his time together as part of the short-lived Three Stooges.

The sword clangs from above him compelled him to try to stand up and return to the forefront of Amakusa's one-man war against the Japanese Government, but his legs wouldn't listen to him at all, as though a demon mounted his chest, digging his claws deep and crushing his heart and lungs like citrus fruit.

Subsequently, all the color from Yahiko's face faded to nothing, his skin's pallor resembling that of the Togakudan corpses beside him: blood-soaked from the outside, blood-drained from the inside.

Minoe popped out of nowhere like a daisy and spoke nonsense like a madman: a womanish hobo with a small sword to protect himself, but was otherwise harmless. Or not so harmless, because he was going to kick Amakusa's butt, and after the feeling in Yahiko's legs came back, they'd battle the zealot two-on-one and at the very least save the lives of everyone who'd survived so far.

On that note, Yahiko couldn't believe how skilled Minoe was up until the time when he first saved his bacon. In many ways, the pirate man and Kenshin were alike in the sense that they were more than what they appeared. They even shared the same inflections and quirks, come to think of it.

Then, a mound of humanity exploded into a menagerie of appendages, bone fragments, giblets, vital organs, and limbs: a sea of flesh and blood heading right towards him.

"M-Minoe?"

It rained crimson during those early hours of the morning.

The boy's stomach churned after he heard the person-sized silhouette from above him splatter and break with a voluminous series of muted viscous chops, like a whole cabbage patch being cut apart and shredded by the thousand-armed Goddess of Mercy herself, Kannon.

"..."

Judging from Kenshin's descriptions when he recounted how he first got his cross-shaped scar, it rained the same way as the Battousai's bloody meeting with Tomoe Yukishiro did. Yahiko bathed in warm blood other than his own, its pungent metallic smell assaulting his nostrils, stinging his watery eyes, and souring his tongue.

Afterwards, it rained appendages, severed limbs, and entrails, which prompted Yahiko to at last gain the strength to move away from the remains and expelling what was left of the Sakaguchi Soba he ate previously.

Hope against hope, Yahiko looked back. He knew it sounded horrible of him to think that way, but he wished the raining appendages were the remains of the exhausted Amakusa, killed by self-defense of the unlikely hero known as Munenori Minoe, the Master of Blocking.

The mangled cadaver was unrecognizable, but the shredded purple-and-blue ensemble it wore wasn't. Yahiko's heart skipped a beat, his whole body shaking as he retched on his spit and mucus.

A glimmer of optimism entered Yahiko's mind. 'No. No, no, no. Wait. This could be another person's corpse!' Yahiko was a terrible, terrible person to desire the death of a stranger in exchange of the life of someone he knew, but he also realized that he didn't care.

'Relax. Patches... I mean, Minoe... has made his choice. He's on our side. Even though Amakusa was his idol, he chose to fight him for the sake of his deceased comrades and Gan's sacrifice. He didn't turn tail and betray the Sanbaka after all.'

Yahiko's train of thought derailed into a multi-passenger tragedy mourned for years to come after realizing he'd referred to himself, the late Gan, and Minoe as the Three Stooges without any provocation, derision, or sarcasm whatsoever. 'What the hell am I thinking? I should stay focused! I am not part of that village idiot troop! Not at all!'

Also, for some reason, Yahiko remembered him and Minoe getting their heads stuck inside the crevice of a bat cave while Gan talked to both their hindquarters... and he didn't know why.

A flapping and bloodied eye patch flew right into Yahiko's face. He lost his balance and fell on the seat of his hakama, even though the light slap of leather didn't really hurt him.

Once realization set in, Yahiko wailed and bit his own wrist to keep his whimpering sobs at bay, multiple streams of salty water flowing from beneath his eye bags as his eyes turned red and his airways were clogged with screams too loud and too hoarse to pass through his throat all at once.

He tried screaming Minoe's name, but his sniveling rendered his words incomprehensible, the tightness in his chest forcing his head to the ground as he pounded the floorboards as though he were knocking on heaven's gilded gates themselves. 'Bring him back,' he would've demanded to the heartless gods.

* * *

_An hour and twenty minutes past midnight, across the hallway where Akahori's designated study was located... _

Rin didn't even flinch as she felt a fleck of some invisible destructive force the size of a pea whiz past her hair, her scalp and her skin pores throbbing after she heard a loud pop from behind her while her father aimed a smoking gun at her.

"Are you all right, Father?" she deadpanned as she brushed her hair back, the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air. "You don't look so good."

The wrinkled, grit-teeth Noh mask her father wore as his face melted into a different expression altogether, the eyes behind his spectacles glinting in recognition of his lone daughter with a flame she was intimately familiar with. His lips twisted into a smile, his laughter exuberant and tearful. Heartbreaking.

"Father, you're limping. Are you hurt? Did Amakusa hurt you?"

"Rin? Rin! RIIIIIIN! I'm so glad you're safe!" As his tears and nasal expulsions streamed across his face-splitting grin, Akahori ran towards his daughter, hugged her, and swung her around until dizziness set in, his bellowing laughter making her bite her lip and cling unto him for a little longer. However, the prickly part of his chin made her flinch and move away, as though stung by a cactus.

"Did Amakusa hurt you, Rin? Did he do anything else to you? I swear, if he dared...!" the hypocrisy of Tetsuo's thought processes didn't bother him in the least, especially in light of the fact that she was kidnapped by her temporary coachman for the sake of minimizing fatalities.

Tetsuo using a police army, the Togakudan, and hired bodyguards as cannon fodder for Amakusa made him more dangerous than the rebel in many ways.

"You and I both know who and what Amakusa is, Father. His convictions won't allow him to do any such thing. He only brought me here, nothing more," Rin reassured. She presumed her irises shook as usual with the way her tearful father stared at her with quivering lips, which amused her in the sense that it looked to him like she was about to cry even though she wasn't really.

"I don't trust him. That man is a hypocrite. He doesn't only create widows and orphans, he also finishes off the loved ones of the people he killed as well, all the while claiming himself to be a god and a god-fearing Christian. What a joke."

"It was your fault why he was forced to do that."

"He had the choice not to kill. He had the choice to fail. If divine retribution is important enough for him to willingly turn into a charlatan and a fraud, then I reserve the right to condemn him for it."

"Father... I can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you? I forgot that you bruise easily. I thought that I'd lost you when Amakusa first showed your body. Just like... Anyway, where's Seta-kun?"

Her father cleared his throat and relinquished his solid grip on her, but first he gave her a parting porcupine kiss on the lips as an apology of sorts. She licked her mouth, tasting the bitterness of tobacco and the sweetness of wine.

"I was forced to leave Seta-kun behind. He'll be here shortly." Rin focused her eyes on Akahori and saw a shaking, trembling, gaunt, and haggard mess of a man. If Amakusa were to come there shortly, he'd finish him off in an instant. This was not the man she referred to when she told Shogo that he didn't stand a chance against her father.

"Wait, what are you doing back here? Who brought you here in the first place?" Akahori asked, his doting facade morphing into a countenance that Rin was more familiar with. The Noh mask returned, the bespectacled man transforming into Enma Daio, his thick brow ridges touching the tips of his glasses and his gloved hands forming a steeple of sorts below an unimpressed sneer.

"I don't know. I was left here by another Battousai." Rin fidgeted and bit the tips of her thumbs in remembrance. "He was a doppelganger Battousai that looked nothing like Amakusa Shogo yet also sported red hair, a cross-shaped scar, and imperceptible speed. He had the build of a little girl and he was able to catch up with Seta-kun."

"Honey, Daddy doesn't have time for your little riddles."

Tetsuo waved his daughter off, which prompted her to reply while rolling her partly lidded eyes, "I meant what I said. There are two Battousais in this mansion right now. The one who brought me here had a twin scar under his eye and Tokugawa Era clothing. He smelled of blood."

"Two Battousais...?"

Her father grabbed hold of her shoulder, pinched the fabric off of her skin, and gripped it tight (probably to avoid further bruises) as he exhaled deeply while his eyes darted to and fro the floor the same way her eyes would've done so involuntarily.

She then realized something. Her genius father, the architect behind the Modern Shimabara War that virtually wiped out Shimabara's Hidden Christians right off the face of Japan, had not anticipated her capture at all.

"I haven't figured out why Amakusa's Battousai Group left you here when they could've killed you and used that fact to their advantage." Her father's words didn't mesh with the expression on his face, which had downtrodden eyes, a faraway look, and a thin, constricted line where his lips should be. "It doesn't matter anyway, since Seta-kun will be here to finish the job."

"Father," Rin ventured.

"What is it, darling?" Her daddy queried while running his gloved hands over her creamy white hair.

"You aren't angry at me for falling into Amakusa's trap?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. I was so busy with all this Battousai Group business that I've neglected you and your needs. It's not your fault, but mine."

"Then I've realized something."

"What is it, honey?"

"I am your weak point."

Without missing a beat, Tetsuo affirmed, "Yes."

Rin tilted her head to the side. "It doesn't bother you?"

"I don't care. People weren't meant to be perfect anyway. My weakness is my strength." He held her close, to the point that she could smell the stench of alcohol and cigarettes and see the streaks of red lightning in the corneas of her father's bloodshot eyes.

She drew imaginary circles around her father's stomach while resting her head on his chest. She stopped once she realized what she was doing. "You yourself said that burning houses should be looted. I'm the fire that leaves you vulnerable to thieves and your own enemies. Are you okay with this?"

"It doesn't matter. Making a bright future for you... for us... is what compels me to act. Some people in our country aren't willing to face the changes of the new age. They continue to live in the past, as though stuck in some sort of time warp. I'm here to bring about change for the next generation because the old must always make way for the new."

Her father's hands trembled as it massaged her back and petted her head like a stray cat, his warmth and his smell either nauseating or intoxicating her as his musk overpowered her. Tentatively, she embraced him back. She felt him tense up and keep her at bay afterwards.

"I will erase the sins of our fathers to make way for a brighter tomorrow. A New Japan awaits us, and I will not let the ghosts of the past come in the way of its fruition."

Akahori held his daughter by the shoulders, pushed her towards his side, and held one of her dainty hands. "We need to find an appropriate hiding place until the storm has passed. Even though my plans have suffered several setbacks, it's still moving along nicely. Before the break of dawn, this Battousai Group issue will be put to rest."

* * *

_After what seemed like countless hours or what could've been mere minutes... Yahiko didn't care anymore... _

Instead of watching the backs of his two companions who lent their strength to him in order to subdue the beyond-reasonable Amakusa, Yahiko ended up endangering his comrades and ultimately leading them to their deaths. They had sacrificed their lives for his instead of the other way around.

Honestly, who was he kidding? Minoe, the Master of Blocking? Blocking strikes wasn't enough to win against that monster, Amakusa. Even he barely lasted a couple of minutes at a time against Shogo's Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, while Gan... He'd rather not talk about Gan at the moment.

Dammit, he couldn't see.

"K-Kenshin... Kenshin, what am I supposed to do now? What would you have done if you were in my sandals?" Yahiko already knew the answer to that. Had Kenshin been the one who handled this mission, then none of those people would've died. The problem would've been settled as soon as he and Amakusa crossed swords. That was how great Kenshin was.

Come to think of it, had Kenshin met Amakusa earlier on... six years earlier, to be exact... would those one thousand policemen and soldiers be spared their gruesome fate? Yahiko believed without a shadow of a doubt that that would've been the case.

As the Hitokiri Battousai, Kenshin was a butcher without peer who paved the way to the new era and painted it with the blood of the Ishin Shishi's enemies. As the vagabond, Kenshin was a pacifist who had the power and ability to stop conflicts with both his mind and his body: a hero through and through. He was perfect: Yahiko's idol to Minoe's Amakusa.

How was he supposed to compete against that? Forget about him being ten years too early to reach Kenshin's level; at this rate, he might as well have been a thousand years too early.

"I've inherited your sword, but I haven't inherited your strength to come along with it. I'm so... weak."

'Unlike your other so-called allies, are you prepared to kill me?' was what Amakusa told Gan, not Yahiko.

The Tokyoite bit his lip and wiped away his tears. Kenshin was strong enough to afford to not kill his enemies and face the repercussions of doing so. That wasn't the case for Yahiko, a former yakuza lackey.

Didn't he as a ten year old swear to the insane Enishi Yukishiro that if he killed Kaoru before he and Kenshin fought, 'Then, in place of Kenshin the non-killing rurouni, I WILL KILL YOU!' with nary a stutter? Did he not face down a giant back in Aoiya, convinced that Kenshin would come back and save them all? Where was that courage of his now?

'I guess I know better now than before. Ignorance is bliss.'

To the Myojin boy himself, Shogo concluded, 'You've never killed a man, have you? Foolish child. This is no place for you.'

Amakusa was right. Yahiko never did kill a man. He'd like to think that it was a choice he made rooting from his strong moral fiber or, like in Kenshin's case, regret and atonement.

However, it just happened that he hadn't had the opportunity or ability to kill anyone. It wasn't a conscious effort on his part, although the non-killing nature of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu also came to play in regards to that circumstance.

Wasn't he just abiding by the pacifistic vow that Kenshin made for himself merely because he wanted to follow the ex-rurouni's example without regard to whether or not it applied to his current situation?

Would the outcome of this incident be a lot more different if he had executed Amakusa like some sort of wandering vigilante? Was it really a matter of choice on his part, or was it more because he didn't have the strength or skill to kill the rebel?

He remembered chasing the backs of both the sprinting Sanosuke and Kenshin in his dreams: a recurring fantasy that defined his goals up until this juncture. Right now, in his mind's eye, their backs were so far away he could barely see them anymore.

The hemorrhaging light of the sunset shone as they all dashed to an unknown destination, so the long shadows of Sanosuke and Kenshin that covered Yahiko's path remained his only other indication that they were still there. No matter how fast or how hard he ran, he could never catch up to them.

If it were Kenshin guarding Akahori, he would've found a way to overcome the opponent without leading to any casualties or collateral damage whatsoever. He would've defeated Amakusa and made him realize the errors of his ways, or at the very least prevent him from hurting anyone else. Had Yahiko killed Amakusa when they first fought, then...!

"If only Kenshin were here. If only Kenshin's weakened body still had the strength to wield this sword I'm not worthy of inheriting..."

"JEEZ, SHUT UP AND STOP WHINING! Kenshee this, Kenshee that. Can't you let a guy rest in peace here? If you want your Kenshee so bad, then why don't you marry him? Honestly."

Yahiko whirled his head so hard at the source of the familiar voice that he'd almost snapped his own neck. He screamed, fell on his knees, and crawled to the safety of the Togakudan's dismembered corpses after seeing the chopped head of Gan speak to him with a sneer and an unimpressed stare.

"Shit. I'm going crazy! What the hell is going on?"

"Well, if by crazy, you mean that you're getting whinier by the minute, then yes. Yes, you are."

"Holy Enlightened Buddha, are you for real?" Yahiko rubbed away the tears in his eyes. Even though he'd already bade logic and reality farewell, there was still no way he'd allow... Gan's ghost the satisfaction of seeing him so vulnerable and pathetic.

After comprehension sunk in, Yahiko ranted, 'What the hell am I doing? I'm talking to a dead guy's decapitated head! I'm losing it! I'm cuckoo! I'm loopy! Pull yourself together and stop doing something that Psycho-Kid does on a regular basis, Yahiko!'

To Gan, Yahiko begged, "I'm so sorry I wasn't able to protect you! Now please rest in peace! Spirit, leave me be!"

Gan's head snorted at the incoherent Yahiko as the boy flailed around and smashed his head on the floor to... cure himself of his supposed psychotic episode? Who knew?

"Wait, come again? Protect me? Isn't it the other way around?" Had Gan still possessed hands, he would've cupped his face with one of them to mime his disbelief.

Yahiko stopped bashing his troubled brains out in time to relent, "All right, fine! For some reason, you were the one who saved my life because I was too weak to take Amakusa on my own! Happy?"

"Oh, so this time, you owe me a life debt, huh? Funny, it seems that I've wasted my time trying to save you after all," Gan needled, which made Yahiko growl. That insipid, open-mouthed grin and wide, mischievous eyes tempted the Tokyoite to play ball with the insufferable talking head.

Yahiko confronted the Chatty Gan with his own furrowed eyebrows and a toothy, half-agape mouth. "What do you mean?"

"If you're going to whine about how helpless you are during a time of crisis, then I might as well have pushed you into Amakusa's rotating blade strikes and watch you turn into ground meat."

Drool began falling out of the severed head's mouth. "I wish I had my stomach. All this talking about food is making me think I'm still capable of hunger!"

Ignoring the gruesome fact that he was talking to the remains of a dead muscleman he met a day or two ago, Yahiko inquired, "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Are you afraid to die? Are you afraid of Amakusa?" Even now, the beheaded head of Gan continued to mock, arguably haunt, Yahiko with his accusing words.

"No. No on both counts. But what's the point of fighting him now? I've already failed so many people. I failed both you and Minoe. I'm helpless."

"Failed to do what? Protect everyone?"

"Yes. If Kenshin were here... or even Sanosuke..."

"Fuck Kenshee. Fuck Harada Sanosuke. You're the one who's here, Yoshi-boy." Gan guffawed the same death rattle of a hearty laugh he shared before his body fell apart from Amakusa's attack. Yahiko shivered in remembrance. "You sound just like him, you know."

"...What?" Yahiko muttered.

The Disembodied Gan clarified, "You sound just like Kumamoto." He then sneezed and spewed out bloody mucus. Or snot-covered blood. He wrinkled his nose. "My nose itches. Can you be a dear and scratch it?"

"No. That's disgusting." Yahiko slapped himself several times over in an attempt to wake up from his guilt-wracked fever dream. "You're a figment of my imagination. Also, you might fall off. Amakusa sliced you up real good."

"Fine." Gan's head rolled his eyes. "Anyway, didn't you hear the awesome dressing down I gave Kumamoto earlier? It was all true. The great expectations he shouldered has turned him into a deluded rebel murderer with a god complex, which is sad. You're acting quite like him right now, judging from what you're bitching and moaning about."

Yahiko turned away after his vision blurred and his eyes were flooded with salty bitterness. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a god complex. Besides which, I've only so far hit Amakusa a couple of times and broke his sword's sheath in three places! Big whoop! I can't stop him the way I am now. He might as well be a god, considering how little damage I've given him."

Gan heaved a low howl of a sigh even though he lacked half a windpipe and both lungs. "Amakusa didn't listen to a goddamn thing I said. My sage knowledge went from one ear to the other without ever registering in his dumbass brain. Will you do the same thing, Yoshi-boy?" the bandanna-wearing "zombie" snarled, which jolted Yahiko awake.

"Kenshee is Kenshee. Yoshi-boy is Yoshi-boy. Don't be like Kumamoto, who's burdened by the shadow of some imaginary Amakusa he could never hope to compete with. You should also step away from the shadow of the Battousai you idolize and create your own path. Show everyone here, Amakusa most of all, the limits of your true strength."

Yahiko punched the floorboard in front of Gan so hard, the resulting sharp wooden shards skinned his knuckles raw. He felt his face and ears grow warm as his gums bled from how sudden he slammed his jaw shut and bared his teeth, his tense neck thick and rigid from all the increased blood flow to his head.

"Bullshit! My true strength? Don't make me laugh! You're dead, Minoe's dead, the Togakudan are finished, most of the police troops have been neutralized, and none of these... 'events' would've happened if we just let that damn lunatic zealot kill that damn Oyakata from the get go!"

"Fuck, listen to yourself, man. If you focus on what you've left behind, you'll never be able to see what lies before you!" Gan boomed, and Yahiko froze in place. In the boy's skewed perspective, the animated head looked more alive than he did at the moment.

"Aren't those policemen stuck inside that smashed, debris-filled entrance still alive? Are you going to let Amakusa run amuck and kill them too because you failed to save the lives of the other officers in the yard? Or the Togakudan inside this ballroom? What about them? What about the Oyakata, who I heard has a daughter? Or his daughter, come to think of it? Aren't you going to save them too? Or are you going to helplessly drown in your own guilt?"

"Shut up. I've heard enough." Yahiko's shoulders slumped down while his neck, grit teeth, trembling hands, heartbeats, and breathing slowed down to a crawl. He stood, sheathed his inheritance from Kenshin, and used it as his crutch of sorts to keep him from toppling over.

Gan queried, "Where do you think you're going?"

Yahiko replied, "Like you said, I shouldn't get too wound up about the past. On that note, dead people shouldn't interfere with issues that don't concern thems anymore."

"Oh, fuck you! If I had a body, I would've headbutted you to the ground like a railroad spike," the bodiless Gan threatened.

"If you had a body, I'd kick you in the crotch," the unimpressed Yahiko countered.

"Shit, now you got me depressed. I don't have a crotch anymore either. Oh, ladies! You're all going to miss out!" Gan sniffled. "Between you and me, Yoshi-boy, I hope I don't turn into some sort of earthbound ghost like Okiku and the Nine Plates; cursed to an eternity of me trying to pick up the pieces of my sliced body. That'd suck!"

The Soba King and the Kid Samurai stared at each other before they burst into energetic, if morbid, laughter, with Yahiko tumbling posterior-first onto the ground anyway despite his sakabatou "support" and slapping his knees with whooping titters at a joke that probably wasn't as funny as he thought it was. Meanwhile, Gan's head stretched his mouth so wide with his sniggers, he could've swallowed his fist whole.

Yahiko wiped away his tears, his bloodshot eyes now clear and cloudless thanks to his own grim mirth. "Thank you, Gan. No offense, but I hope I won't be seeing you around anytime soon. I still have some work to do and the rest of my life ahead of me."

The head didn't answer back, which Yahiko took as his cue to leave.

'Who I am right now isn't enough to surpass Amakusa or Psycho-Kid, much less Kenshin during his peak. That doesn't necessarily mean I can't keep that deranged cult leader and his posse from doing whatever they want.'

Every step felt like stabbing knives and every breath stung like glass dust in his lungs. Regardless, he gingerly made his way through the less damaged of the two staircases, wincing at every footfall, his head feeling like it was about to burst at any minute.

He felt a soft tuft of something underneath the sole of his sandaled feet by the time he reached the railing where he faced down Amakusa's second Kuzu Ryu Sen head on. The place where Minoe had pushed him, to be exact. He raised his foot and looked down. It was a raven-haired wig.

He chuckled again, laughing at something that wasn't funny at all. He wondered if this was also Psycho-Kid's coping mechanism as he entered the two-floor dining hall beyond the corpse-filled ballroom.

* * *

_Two hours and thirty minutes after midnight, within the humongous confines of the Akahori Mansion's guestroom... _

After a quarter of an hour of searching through the different rooms of the labyrinthine mansion, Amakusa found his quarry hiding inside the guestroom along with his milky-white daughter way before the Ten Ken could return.

"Rin, move to the corner. Daddy has some business to attend to," the Oyakata ordered the Porcelain Doll of the House of Akahori as he went into position, and true to her reputation, she obliged his request. She stood stock-still by the shadows of the moonlit window while staring, unblinking, at the events that unfolded before her, her shaking irises hinting emotions that she might or might not have felt.

"Akahori. We meet again. Let me say hello to you properly." The gleaming Amakusa's aura of sword-ki whirled around him anew, summoning a gust of wind from out of nowhere that made his clothes and hair flutter as though he were in the middle of the storm of the century.

The Oyakata slowly backed away into the windows and flapping curtains while keeping his distance from Amakusa's striking range, making sure that Rin was always within his field of vision lest the zealot became desperate and struck her down like the coward that he was.

"I was wondering whether or not that cannon shot to your shin even fazed you because you managed to finish off a squadron or two. But judging by that bleeding hole on your abdomen and the fact that you look as haggard as you were after you took out a thousand men, I'd say it affected you immensely after all."

Tetsuo squinted his eyes, his glasses flaring from the bright beams that emanated from the wounded but indefatigable Amakusa's body as the insurgent slipped into his battoujutsu stance and roared. The forty-something-year-old politician then placed his right hand a hairline away from his holstered pistol, ready to draw and fire at the slightest hint of movement.

Amakusa made the first move, leaping forward with a charging battoujutsu strike that nearly cleaved in half the curved part of the wooden scabbard that housed his shining blade. Because it wasn't a reverse-edged sword, the katana slid even faster than the original Battousai's sword-drawing technique; perhaps fast enough to cleave bullets in half.

Akahori tested that theory by drawing his gun, aiming it right between Amakusa's eyes, and firing. An instant later, Shogo split both the projectile and the fraction of a second it took to release his sword from its borrowed sheath in half, the two metal halves of the bullet traveling in different directions while singing the cilia of both his ears.

'His skills haven't deteriorated at all, but the sheath he's using isn't the same sheath he had before. It's a scabbard from another sword instead of the black steel one with the sharpened edge,' Tetsuo noticed after witnessing that one sword-drawing slash from Shogo. 'Even though most swords are shaped the same, I doubt that his sword is a perfect fit with that sheath. It has made his unsheathing strikes a mite slow.'

As the Oyakata evaluated Amakusa's skills, he kicked a couch right at the Kakure Kirishitan in order to block off the follow-up scabbard strike of the Hiten Mitsurugi School's Double Dragon Flash.

Meanwhile, Akahori remarked, "I take it that even now, you're suffering from a god complex, am I right? Tell me, did the invisible man up in the sky command you to murder all those policemen, or are you now pretending to be your magical imaginary friend made flesh?"

"Blasphemer! How can you who are evil say anything good? You're a philosophically inept charlatan with an imperfect understanding of how the world truly works. The minds of men are incapable of fathoming God's ultimate plan."

The entirety of the couch collapsed into a mess of broken wood and stuffing, the centrifugal force afforded by Amakusa's sword-drawing stance giving him enough momentum to imbue the hollow sheath with bone-crushing power without it breaking like a matchbox.

"I'm imperfect? Good. God doesn't exist because god is defined as perfect, and there's no such thing as perfection. The concept of perfection is a lie; a fantasy of idle minds wishing for something better than this imperfect world."

With that said, Akahori released the remaining four rounds of his firearm.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **Murdering god.

_Almost forgot to note that the Gadamer Gem Amakusa used in the last chapter was based on the same weapon that Shiro Amakusa of Samurai Shodown (or Samurai Spirits) fame used. The "Invisible man in the sky" paraphrase is a quote from the late George Carlin's skit about how religion is bullshit._

Also, the "Focus on what you left behind" quote was taken from Pixar's Ratatouille, while the "Burning houses should be looted" quote was lifted directly from "The Thirty-Six Stratagems" of Zhuge Liang. All rights reserved, as per usual.

**Taas noo kahit kanino,_  
_**Abdiel


	23. Chapter 23

"'Where has God gone?' he cried. I shall tell you. We have killed him, you and I. We are his murderers."

**(Friedrich Nietzsche) **

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_Would you believe it took me nearly a decade to get to this part?_

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 23: Shadow of Your Former Self **

* * *

Shogo Amakusa shattered the floor and leapt up into the air as he attempted to dodge and deflect the bullets, rising into a continuous tumble as his spine jutted out in a right angle before he stabbed his katana at the ceiling above him to delay his inevitable fall. He then dropped towards Tetsuo Akahori like a missile, his forehead bleeding with a single red line.

"There's a reason why there's a limit to everything. I won't say that nothing is absolute because that's a contradiction in and of itself, but I will say that perfection doesn't exist in nature. There are no symmetrical petals or mountains forming perfect cones. Even in the bacterial level, randomness and irregularities are the norm."

In merely three seconds flat, Akahori activated his pistol's cylinder release, emptied the spent casings with the ejector rod, took a loaded speedloader from one of the bandoliers slung underneath his clothes, inserted it into the chamber while the casings were still airborne, and shot at Amakusa's feet twice... one shot missing, one hitting its mark, which was an old wound... before either the speedloader or the casings hit the ground.

"Yes. Nobody is perfect for all have sinned and fell short of the glory of God. Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection, we can catch excellence."

Amakusa swung at Akahori's scalp and the latter blocked the religious revolutionary's strike with the gun's cylinder while keeping the barrel aimed at the crucifix-shaped target on the redhead's chest.

"Perfection is an abnormal concept that'll cause anything natural to stagnate and decay. Any attempts in achieving perfection will be met with destruction. To save the world, I will set the boundaries and limits needed to rescue it from the evils of idealism, corruption, and other absolute extremes," Tetsuo said.

"Are you promoting mediocrity now, you bastard? Are you suggesting that people shouldn't dare become unique or special, because it's not normal or natural? That's utter nonsense!" Shogo rebutted.

Amakusa parried the pistol to the side with his blade and smashed the scabbard that didn't belong to him into Akahori's nose, drawing blood and creating hairline cracks on the lenses of the curtain-bearded man's spectacles.

"Have you come up with that illogical conclusion by perceiving an incomplete world with your own limitations? Then enjoy imperfection. Celebrate it, if you must. When the perfect comes, the partial will be done away."

Pirouetting in order to sheath his blade while the stunned Akahori struggled to recover from the unexpected blow, Amakusa gave himself ample room to finally serve justice to the corrupt official as well as avenge the deaths and centuries-long suffering of his people with the perfect sword-drawing slice.

Shogo halted his planned battoujutsu in mid-release, his sword half-unsheathed as his internal organs slammed into his battered frame and fractured ribs thanks to the upsurge of inertia and his forceful stop.

Right in front of him stood the impassive Rin Akahori, the real-life snow lady's arms outstretched while her sniveling father remained hidden behind the folds of her lengthy kimono. For a half-blind girl, she moved quite fast and accurately. "O-Ojousama...!"

"You've become a step slower."

Four consecutive bangs were heard, and Amakusa fell to his knees. Four bullet holes simmered and smoked from the loose fabrics of Rin's outfit, not one bullet touching the pallid body of the Akahori daughter.

Although the Kakure Kirishitan was already hurt before he even stepped into the confines of Akahori's guestroom while all but one shot landed on his person, that lone bullet nevertheless proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

The muted noise of what sounded like a roaring stampede or a bottled maelstrom of lightning and thunder went unnoticed by the trio, their minds drifting off into another world or plain of existence.

"AKAHORI! YOU VIPER! YOU FALSE PROPHET! YOU ANTICHRIST! You'd use your own daughter as your human shield? I swear, after I slaughter you, no one will dare mourn for you or gather your remains for burial! You will be scattered on the ground like manure!"

The Oyakata squatted from behind Rin and holstered his gun. His entwined hands then formed a triangle that covered his bleeding, twisted nose and framed his smirking lips. "If you are who you were six years ago, then you would've had my scalp flying in the air even before my daughter could step in to protect me. That saya you stole didn't help matters much either."

The immaculate light of red and white burst forth at the center of Amakusa's crucifix-scarred chest while the peaceful spirits of Lady Magdalia and the Soldier of Christ, Shozo Lorenzo, appeared from behind the Savior of Shimabara and the Second Coming of Shiro Amakusa as a form of support.

"Ojousama, forgive me. Pray for your father as he descends into the pits of Hell while you yourself rise into Heaven."

A misplaced hair on the blank-eyed Rin's forehead was split in twain, Amakusa's katana an eyelash away from her face as Soujiro Seta winked into existence and parried Shogo's battoujutsu with his own self-taught sword-drawing technique, their swords both singing a resonant tune in praise of their mutual skill.

Geysers of woodchips, fabric, fur, and plaster flew across the room from behind the teenage-looking boy as he redirected Amakusa's blade away from his personal Yuki-Onna. "I'm sorry I'm late, Akahori-san. Rin-san. This house is so big! I found you only after I followed the sound of gunfire and strange, religious curses."

Soujiro had to block twin combination strikes from what appeared to be one battoujutsu slash by doing a Ryu-Sou-Sen-like maneuver himself. The serene swordsman's wide eyes continued to glint long after he impeded the zealot's attempt at murdering the entire Akahori family in two strokes of the sword.

"Like I said, you've become a step slower, Amakusa." Tetsuo chuckled. "Let me introduce you to the Juppon Gatana's Ten Ken, Seta Soujiro-kun."

"Akahori, you...!" Shogo grunted before jumping away from the bright, zigzagging streaks of lightning produced by Soujiro's refurbished Kikuichi Monji sword.

"Here are some fair words of warning, Amakusa. Seta-kun is Shishio Makoto's right-hand man. You were barely able to survive against fifty-five people who served as my bodyguards, and not all of them were trained police officers at that. On any given night, any one of the Ten Swords is capable of killing fifty officers; some of them can do so in under one or two hours. The Heaven Sword is the best swordsman of all the Juppon Gatana. Good luck."

* * *

Despite its many rooms and the inn-like structure of Akahori's abode, Yahiko pressed on with his search, checking out as many places and quarters as he could find in order to locate Amakusa or Akahori in time, hoping against hope that his mission remained a protective one instead of a belated quest for revenge.

As he went deeper into the seemingly endless hallways and floors of the immense manor, he heard the unmistakable deafening thumps that was forever carved into his consciousness thanks to his one-sided duel at the bamboo-filled forest of Shinshu's East Valley.

He gritted his teeth. "Shukuchi." The Heaven Sword had at last come back to Akahori's Mansion in Shinshushin.

Before he became aware of it, his body followed the thumping sounds of familiar footfalls by instinct, his heart throbbing in cadence with the hoof-like thuds of the so-called Psycho-Kid's Reduced Earth technique. 'Just like before.'

The pounding became louder. Eventually, he saw visible evidence of Soujiro Seta's presence: the curved grooves and pockmarks created by the equestrian sprints of the youthful swordsman's powerful legs.

After following the foot indentations on the wooden floor for a couple of minutes or so, Yahiko ended up arriving at the guestroom of the western-style Shinshushin mansion, which was about one-third as large (and not as high-ceilinged) as the ballroom that the Three Stooges and Amakusa recently demolished.

He would've liked to see the area in perfect condition, wondering what the crushed and slashed sofa coaches, shattered chandeliers, ripped-up carpet, sliced potted plants, smashed fireplace, and broken windows had looked like before the Juppon Gatana's Heaven Sword and Nagasaki's One-Man Army ravaged and devastated the whole room with their high-paced battle.

Yahiko tried to move from his position inside the door, draw his sword, and avenge the deaths of Minoe and Gan as well as countless others within the Akahori Manor, but for some reason, he couldn't. Move. A. Muscle. He stood there, bewitched by the dance of death that the hyperaroused Amakusa and the uncatchable Soujiro engaged in, their auras clashing like the waves of the sea against the wails of the tempest.

This was what Shogo meant when he described himself as a force of nature. While Kenshin waited for Soujiro to come to him after realizing how much slower he was against Shishio's prodigy, Amakusa did the exact opposite and started leveling the playing field by literally leveling the floor so that the Ten Ken had little place to run. Instead of untying a knot, he decided to cut it: a valid tactic, by Yahiko's estimations.

The twice-struck nine wounds all over Yahiko's body flared anew and sent shockwaves to his nerves and spine after Amakusa declared, "Kuzu Ryu Sen!" and again turned himself into the multi-armed Kannon in one-eighth of a second.

With a smile that probably didn't betray his inward gleefulness over knowing something Shogo didn't, the imperceptible Soujiro replied, "Kuzu Ryu Sen!" and countered Amakusa's Kannon by transforming into an Asura with nine "arms" instead of six.

Although Soujiro lacked proper form with his self-taught Nine-Headed Dragon Slash, he more than made up for it with the momentum of his high-velocity gallop. In turn, even though Amakusa lacked Ten-Ken-level speed, he more than made up for it with leverage, power, and a fine-tuned understanding of the ultimate offensive charge. Henceforth, a deadlock occurred.

The clash of nine powerful strikes times two resulted in a tumultuous stalemate of sorts that forced Yahiko back into the double doors from behind him, the entire room shaking and warping from the destructive might unleashed by the two swordsmen's respective attacks.

'I don't believe it. Amakusa, whom Gan beat to a pulp and whom I was able to hit a couple of times earlier, can keep up with Psycho-Kid with little to no problem whatsoever? Was that damn Christian assassin holding back on us earlier? I didn't realize he could move so fast!'

Yahiko narrowed his eyes. 'Or is it Psycho-Kid who's playing with Amakusa like a cat would a mouse?'

Just like with his fight against Kenshin, Soujiro's speed and unreadable heart allowed him to move right behind Amakusa and slash the vulnerable insurgent's back, only for him to backpedal away in one-sixth of a second after Shogo twirled around and parried the strike with a "Ryu Kan Sen!"

"Whoa," Soujiro exclaimed before whistling with widening, crescent-shaped lips. "I honestly didn't expect that last strike. I'm guessing that the blood caking all over your body was mostly somebody else's!"

Behind Soujiro's complacent smile lurked understanding, a raised heart rate, and an overflow of adrenalin. He assumed earlier that Amakusa was merely aping another person's sword style for the most part, but after crossing swords with him while using Kenshin Himura (now Kenshin Kamiya) as a point of comparison, he recognized that the movement the insurrectionary displayed was unmistakably Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu in nature.

'Instead of two, I now have three interesting people to look forward to: Himura-san's prodigy, Himura-san's doppelganger, and Himura-san's contemporary who'd also studied under the banner of the legendary Royal Soaring Heaven Sword Style.'

Yahiko couldn't exactly describe it, but for some reason, he didn't think Soujiro was at a disadvantage at all despite the fact that the boyish swordsman had yet to land a solid shot against Amakusa.

His eyes never leaving the curious spectacle of what seemed like a literal army of Amakusa's afterimages... or, as the loopy ninja-wannabe Minoe would've called them, "Kage Bunshin"... chasing after the floor-rendering mad dashes of the mostly invisible Seta, the Tokyo Samurai Descendant tiptoed into the corner of the demolished guestroom.

The two combatants never noticed Yahiko's presence even though he never utilized stealth techniques worthy of a spy or a shadow warrior. They presently resided in a whole other dimension that could only be accessed by those who had reached their level of sword mastery.

"Well, color me surprised. Myojin-kun! You're still alive," a gruff voice from behind Yahiko greeted right after the boy realized the presence of two other people. "I thought for sure that Amakusa would've finished you off by now. This proves my theory that he's not as powerful as he used to be."

"Oyakata-dono. Or rather, Akahori. You don't sound the slightest bit guilty about using police officers and spies to do your dirty work for you. I can't say I'm surprised," Yahiko snorted and snarled as the temptation to push the middle-aged official into harm's way rose.

"Why should I feel guilty? They chose to accept this mission on their own accord instead of taking care of that recent mess at Chichibu. They want Amakusa dead. Thanks to them, I will help grant their wish soon enough," Akahori explained, his right index finger resting over the bridge of his nose and the rest of his hand covering his mouth.

The Tokyo Samurai Descendant backed up towards the pair until he was beside them, shoulder-to-shoulder, while keeping his eye on the furious volleys and exchanges from Shogo and Soujiro. Once he faced Tetsuo, he blinked and stared at the white-as-a-ghost visage and petite body of the demure girl right beside him.

The Tokyoite then remembered that this was the same young woman whom Soujiro rescued in the middle of Amakusa's attempts to storm Tetsuo's proverbial castle. "Miss Akahori, I presume?"

"Rin. Akahori Rin. It's a pleasure to meet you," was Rin's monotone reply, her haunting irises moving in hypnotic, circular motions that Yahiko drowned in before she again refocused her attention on the battle at hand.

She flinched and retreated to her father's arms from time to time thanks to the intense sparks and flashes from the whirling blades and Amakusa's bright halo of sword energy that produced what would be called forty-seven years later as the stroboscopic effect.

'I guess she's not the talkative type. Huh.' Her skin and hair were even whiter than Enishi's, while her eyes reminded Yahiko of how Kenshin described Tomoe to them. To him, she was like a living marble statue. He soon noticed the bruises on her arms and the bullet holes in her kimono. 'What the hell happened there?'

The hairs at the back of all three spectator's necks rose as the clangs stopped in an abrupt fashion. For the first time since Yahiko entered the room, Soujiro's whole self became visible for more than a mere fraction of a second, his smile as rigid on his lips as his body was at the moment.

"Shin no Ippo," Akahori breathed, and sure enough, Yahiko espied rays of red and white flash from Shogo's saucer eyes, his hypnotic stare coiling around the Ten Ken's body like a swamp full of thick vines and water snakes. Amakusa jumped, his sword held high, before he let gravity assist him in cutting down the supposed strongest swordsman of the Ten Swords.

"When it comes to employing the best technique at any given situation, Amakusa has few peers. This much I can admit. He's also at his limits right now, his rush of adrenalin and his self-hypnosis giving him the strength to move his battered frame even when it's unwise to do so."

"Wait, what are you talking about, old man? What do you mean by 'unwise to do so'? He's keeping up against Psycho-Kid just fine!" was what Yahiko would've said had Soujiro not recovered from the desperate One-Sided Heart attempt and scaled the walls to meet the plummeting Amakusa head on while airborne. 'Buddha be damned; does Psycho-Kid even have any weaknesses?'

"Ryu Kan Sen Tsumuji!" Amakusa thusly reacted to Soujiro's allegedly limitless Shukuchi, rotating his hips and turning his body into a whirling dervish that clashed against Soujiro's feet-propelled strike and sent the both of them plunging down to the ground. They then made two bowl-shaped craters right below them with the impact of their descent.

Bullets of sweat covered Amakusa's body, the caking blood washing down to his kimono and staining it red and brown. "H-How's that? I'm aware of how you fought Battousai back in Shishio M-Makoto's mountain stronghold. I've replayed our impending fight in my mind thousands of t-times over even though this is the first time w-we've crossed swords. I can k-keep up with your vaunted speed with a Divine Speed that s-surpasses Battousai's D-Divine Speed!"

"I haven't had a death match since I fought Himura-san. Come to think of it, that wasn't a death match at all, since he wouldn't dare kill me in the first place! Thank you for this opportunity, Amakusa-san!" cheered Soujiro while slinging his drawn blade over the back of his neck as though it were a practice sword made of oak.

'What's with this child? I can't sense any bloodlust in him at all. His moves are hard to read, and it's tiring to always rely on my reflexes at the last minute in order to keep up with his movements!' Shogo deliberated to himself.

"Although I'm not a religious man by any stretch of the imagination, Seta-kun has what I'd call the smile of an Enlightened Buddha," Akahori boasted, and Yahiko rolled his eyes.

Those same brown irises then darted over the sighing Rin. Yahiko could've sworn that the ghostly girl rolled her eyes as well, but disregarded it as his imagination.

Soujiro chuckled while tapping the blunt side of his signature weapon on his shoulder and the tips of one of his sandals on the floor.

"You've kept up against my One-Step Shukuchi. Himura-san couldn't even hit his Kuzu Ryu Sen while I used the Shukuchi with two steps before it. You've really impressed me, Amakusa-san. It's such a shame that this battle has to end soon."

"W-What...?" Amakusa sputtered before Soujiro's multidirectional assault commenced. The fountains of shredded shards from the Ten Ken's hurtling onslaught were twice as tall and voluminous as before. By instinct, Shogo again picked the correct technique against such a dire situation: a Ryu Sou Sen that slashed at every last empty space before him.

However, the No-Step Shukuchi traveled so fast that the usually accurate Amakusa hit nothing but air this time around and turned into a hemorrhaging spring of cascading bodily fluids. He kept on slashing, desperate to avoid amputation or decapitation by cutting Soujiro first, unable to use the presence of blood thirst and murderous intent to read his moves.

'All this time, even with the help of self-hypnosis Rai Ryu Sen, I was only able to keep up with the Ten Ken's second-to-fastest speed? You've got to be kidding me! What kind of a man is this Heaven Sword?'

The Ten Ken announced in no uncertain terms, "I have and I always will be... faster than the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu!"

"He's only been playing with him so far!" Yahiko exclaimed, and Akahori corrected, "Not exactly. Amakusa hypnotized himself to numb his pain and to move fast enough to counter Seta-kun's Shukuchi. While under this self-induced spell, he had a chance, however small, to win or at least injure my head bodyguard."

Tetsuo went down on one knee, his teeth biting his gloved hand's knuckles as he watched his plans and predictions unfold without a hitch.

"Ergo, the best way to handle his desperate, all-or-nothing gambit with zero risk on Seta-kun's part is to let him waste his energy battling a Ten Ken who only employed half of his strength. After all, it's always wise to substitute leisure for labor during such circumstances."

'Even until now, he has that smile on his face. Hearing about his cold-bloodedness is one thing, but witnessing it in action is another thing altogether. Are you really that numb to killing, Seta Soujiro? How I wish I were the same as you in that regard,' thought Shogo.

Yahiko's ears perked up after hearing a feminine whisper that asked, "Is this your answer, Seta-kun? Are you okay with this?" He turned towards the small, cream-haired Rin, her steel eyes unblinking as the halo of variegated lights from the wheezing and winded Shogo's body faded to oblivion.

"I-I have wiped out many nations, devastating their fortress walls and towers. Their cities are now d-deserted. Their streets are in silent ruin. T-There are no survivors to even tell what happened," ranted Amakusa to himself before he again gave chase to the impervious phantom known as the Ten Ken. He might as well have been chasing rainbows.

Amakusa answered the grounded Reduced Earth with a series of aerial Ryu Kan Sen maneuvers. All they did was buy him time.

'And here I thought the Battousai opened your eyes and heart back in your duel at Shishio's stronghold. What happened since then? Shouldn't you feel rage or determination with every strike you take? Instead, there's always a hint of curiosity in your eyes every time you swing your blade, your expectant smile asking the questions, "How strong have I become?" or "Was I too strong?" to your opponent.'

The whole chunks of the floor or whatever was left of it lifted up and crumbled into smaller yet smooth shapes... cubes, prisms, tetrahedrons, octahedrons, and trapezohedrons as well as truncated, rectified, and snubbed forms... of all shapes and sizes. The ditch that Shogo and Soujiro dug appeared carved out of chisels by how polygonal it appeared.

"That was an interesting spell you used against me when your sword and my gun clashed for the first time, Amakusa. Rai Ryu Sen, was it? I've heard that that was your favorite technique during your battle against a thousand men," Tetsuo brought up as though he were merely talking to Shogo about the state of today's weather.

Amakusa's blood grew cold and curdled after hearing Akahori's claims. Everything that could go wrong in his mission did go wrong.

"The funny thing is, this time around, you have to use a glass globe full of hallucinogens to activate it. Let me guess. You can't do it on your own anymore, right? You're run out of drugs after using all three of them against my daughter, myself, and yourself! Wouldn't a Lightning Dragon Flash be useful right about now?"

Rin gasped. Even though she believed that her father didn't anticipate her kidnapping, he was still able to use it to his advantage by figuring out that Amakusa would have to waste his special technique on her. What would've been his plans had she not been kidnapped and Amakusa had one Rai Ryu Sen left to use, she wondered. 'He probably has a contingency plan for that too.'

Amakusa screamed Akahori's name and lunged at the self-satisfied, bespectacled man, which earned him a fresh new stab into his left thigh care of Soujiro. Just like Yahiko during the earlier stages of his fight against the Heaven Sword, Shogo couldn't even land a strike on Seta's blade any longer, much less his body. He was a sitting duck against the relentless power of the Shukuchi.

"At this point, you can't even live up to the reputation of you killing over a thousand men. That Amakusa is long gone. He already died six years ago. It's time to face facts. You're past your prime. Even though you're obviously willing to sacrifice your life to kill me, that's not enough to bring me down."

"That's my line, old man!" the Battousai of Style decided then and there to live up to the legendary reputation of the original owner of his latest new moniker by sheathing his sword and falling into battoujutsu stance. The complacent Soujiro went through the motions of intercepting the expected Sou Ryu Sen attack, only to disrupt the rhythm of his Shukuchi after realizing that Amakusa deployed a completely different technique altogether.

"Sou Ryu Sen Ikazuchi!"

Akahori's glasses fell off from his face, its frame front that connected the two lenses together cut in half along with his nose from its tip to its bridge. It took a second for the meaning behind the blinding pain and the warm, spurting blood that dribbled from his face to his shirt to sink in his cocksure head. He fell, cried, and rolled on the ground howling nonstop an instant later.

"FATHER!" Rin cried out to her parent, but Yahiko restrained her from moving any further lest she got too involved in the scuffle and ended up a victim like Kenshin's first wife, Tomoe Yukishiro, did. He quickly let go upon seeing how easy it was to bruise the pearly skinned maiden.

"Rin! Stay where you are! Don't get involved!" the Oyakata commanded even though he hypocritically used her as a shield earlier on. His daughter didn't listen though, moving right by his side and offering a handkerchief to ease his bleeding.

As for Soujiro, although his unimaginable speed helped save his boss from getting a split-open cranium as though it were a watermelon during the watermelon-splitting game of Suikari at the beach, the delay from the unexpected sheath-first battoujutsu left him wide open to a bone-smashing strike to the hip. His smile remained, but his buckling knees, strained lips, and moist eyes betrayed his agony.

Gan's earlier reproach echoed within Shogo's flickering awareness. 'In many ways, you too had to fight to earn the right to your name. Your greatest enemy was the Amakusa Shogo... oh, wait, sorry; the 'Second Coming of Amakusa Shiro'... that your people thought you were. You failed to live up to your hype, didn't you? Even though you supposedly killed a thousand soldiers and policemen, countless other Kakure Kirishitan died in your watch. What a damn shame.'

'Even though Uncle Hyoue ran away from his own responsibilities like the coward that he is, I won't do the same. Even though there are those who cannot take the pressure of being the chosen one, I will not falter. I won't break down from the lofty expectations of others. I'll instead exceed them! I will turn myself into the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost if that's what it takes to liberate all Kakure Kirishitan from the oppressiveness of this sinful earth. Even if I have to turn into the Devil himself, I'll do so for the sake of my people.'

Yahiko picked up his jaw on the floor. Although the Ten Ken recovered from the blow a couple of seconds later, this was the first time the young samurai wannabe saw firsthand a strike land on the untouchable Soujiro's body. 'Shit. Now it's Amakusa who's turning into an unstoppable monster. Who's going to win this fight?'

The fighter left standing so far, Amakusa, raised his bloodied sword to the sky and pointed his borrowed scabbard at the fallen figures of Akahori and Seta. "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. I shall become the Divine Savior of the Hidden Christians. I will fulfill the hopes and dreams of my people with every last ounce of divine strength within this flesh-and-bone container."

While still holding his nose and bloodied face, Tetsuo rebuked, "ENOUGH! Give up. You've been crucified, tortured, betrayed, immolated, cut, scourged, shot at with guns, and blasted by cannons. You're nothing but a shadow of your former self. You have nothing left to give. It's impossible for you to win at this point."

"With men, it is impossible, but to God, all things are possible." On that note, Amakusa returned his sword to its borrowed scabbard and fell into a sword-drawing stance. The room went silent. Even the breaths of everyone present turned softer and wispier.

To everyone who was aware of the implications of Amakusa's actions (which basically included all of them but Rin, but she was quick on the uptake anyway), the tense atmosphere was perfectly justified. Even Soujiro, who could take the torment of a hip strike with a smile, waxed pensive over Amakusa's last stand.

"Don't hesitate, Seta-kun. He's already done for. His own continuous hesitation has brought his body to its limits despite his skill. You only need one more strike," advised Akahori while holding his daughter's handkerchief over his split nose. "He has already betrayed himself and what he stands for. He won't even have the power of will to spur him onwards any longer. Finish him now."

Nodding at his boss's words, Soujiro slashed at the exposed concrete of the wooden floor, produced two intersecting crescent ruts, and sheathed his Kikuichi Monji into a saya that actually fit. "I will not be victimized by your school's succession technique again. I've already tasted its power and saw how it's done. Rejoice. You've made yourself worthy of tasting my only named technique, the Shun Ten Satsu."

The Oyakata then faced the prowling Amakusa and said, "I wasn't able to kill you the last time we met, but I left you dying. Hoist by your own petard. Did you realize when you started to die? It wasn't through the wounds inflicted by those one thousand men you killed. You started dying because you killed a thousand men."

A single tear rolled down Amakusa's eye. Otherwise, his battle-worn body remained perfectly still, never blinking, not one voluntary muscle of his twitching. Because he'd discovered in short order that he wasn't fast enough to lead an assault against Soujiro, he decided to swallow his pride, wait, and counter the Instant Heaven Murder as it happened.

The loose and untroubled Soujiro pondered while waiting for his chance to attack, 'I wish I could've fought you six years ago, Amakusa-san. It would've been a glorious battle. By my estimations, you would've given even Himura-san all he could handle and more thanks to your ultra-aggressive version of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. You're even a lot faster than he is, from what I've observed.'

Amakusa's focus became so sharp that he could see the pores on the mostly unmarked Heaven Sword's skin and the details of the debris-filled remains of the guestroom even from that distance. The high-definition sharpness of what he perceived made him feel as though he entered an entirely alien world full of colors he didn't know the names for and haven't even seen before as well as intricacies he normally wouldn't notice.

'However, judging by your performance today, you would've been defeated completely by Shishio-san had the two of you ever got the chance to fight. Like Akahori-san, he is also the kind of person who'd use mind games and attack you during your lowest point in order to win. You're too naive and straightforward to beat Shishio-san. You wouldn't even stand a chance.'

Unbidden, Akahori himself fired the gunshot that forced the two to hurtle themselves at each other and test the limits of their respective battoujutsu: a bullet that would've torn Amakusa's nose off had he not ducked down to avoid it. 'Every delay counts. Your time is up, Amakusa. Like Odin, you've finally fallen. This is now your Ragnarok, and Seta-kun is your Fenrir.'

As soon as Soujiro saw Amakusa's left foot sink into the ground within both of their striking ranges, Soujiro retreated in an instant to the faraway crumbling fireplace behind him. Afterwards, with his own eyes, the Ten Ken confirmed Houji Sadojima's crazy stories about the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki's ability to create a vortex even after it missed, which assisted the follow-up strike by doubling its power. His heart raced as he giggled with childish glee. 'This technique is even better than I imagined.'

"AMAKAKERU RYU NO HIRAMEKI!"

As per Akahori's orders, once he saw Amakusa's back turned, the Ten Ken blasted off with the Shukuchi and unsheathed his sword in supersonic velocities that wouldn't only cut the Christian in half, but destroy a good portion of the entire house with two dueling sonic booms.

Soujiro also sunk his stance low to avoid letting the destructive vortex suck him in, arrest his movements, and set him up for a destructive upward diagonal slash. However, even with the Reduced Earth technique, by the time he got there, the centrifugally powered blade of Shogo was already a whisker away from shearing his upper torso off of his body.

"Shun Ten Satsu!"

The colliding blades helped buffer the eventual slash that reopened the vertical portion of Amakusa's crucifix scar and kept the Instant Heaven Murder from cleaving the rebel in half the same way Soujiro saw Shishio kill a policeman the first time they met. In turn, the cut that sliced part of the Ten Ken's vest open was only skin-cutting deep instead of bone-cutting deep.

The Sword of Light and Darkness clattered to the floor while Amakusa's Hyoki no Jutsu trance ended. The injuries he sustained from head to toe... from his cannon-seared thigh to his twice-pierced stab would; from his cut to the eyebrow to the myriad of bullet wounds in his body; from his reopened nail wounds to his countless lacerations; and from his closed-fractured ribs to his aching arm tendon... chose that moment to make their presence known, burning the cult leader alive with the flames of agony. Sadly, Shogo didn't even have the power left to scream.

Yahiko's body sagged as he breathed out the word, "Wow." He didn't know what else to say upon seeing firsthand what the Shun Ten Satsu truly was. He barely saw what happened. Amakusa and Seta both disappeared in one second, and the latter was left standing afterwards. However, the implications and results of that Shukuchi-powered battoujutsu were as plain as day.

In the fever pitch of Yahiko's battle against Soujiro, would the Tokyoite have been fast enough to counter the sword-drawing technique that was probably just as fast (although not as strong) as the Amakakaru Ryu no Hirameki? The boy suppressed a shudder. He would've probably ended up underneath a shallow grave, serving as worm bait.

"I-I've won." Soujiro grabbed hold of his mouth and lips, as though he couldn't believe the words that came out of them. As he knelt down, he saw stars and let out a screech that sounded more like a delighted squeal. The right-thigh part of his hakama became sticky with blood thanks to a perfectly sliced wound that went agape as soon as he knelt down. '...Did I really win?'

Soujiro turned his head to be greeted with strands of white and blonde hair and the shaking eyes of the white-as-snow Rin. Because she'd given her handkerchief to her father, she instead ripped part of her holey kimono sleeves and tied it to the torn part of the Heaven Sword's hakama.

"My apologies, Amakusa. If you and the Ten Ken had fought six years ago, then it would've been a closer fight. However, even back then, he'd still be faster than you. He's the fastest swordsman alive!"

Amakusa groaned as a pool of warm blood formed underneath him. This time around, his stillness was more of a matter of him not being able to move a muscle on his own free will instead of him choosing to become motionless in anticipation of an upcoming attack. "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Rin looked over the fallen form of Shogo, her darting irises and pinkish skin filled with goose flesh trembling as one while she reminisced about the quiet yet hectic cross-country ride she and her imposter coachman had from the Tsugaru docks to Shinshushin Town while she pretended that she was none the wiser to her "driver" kidnapping her.

She had said that he couldn't win against her father if he remained the way he was. She told him so. His heart was too unsure and hesitant for him to be the one to ultimately finish Tetsuo Akahori off.

"How exactly did I kill a god? It wasn't through swords, or spears, or arrows, or bullets, or cannon balls. No, you kill a god by making him go against the very thing he's supposed to stand for. Belief in gods is belief in an ideal. By proving an ideal wrong, you turn a god into a myth. A joke. A fairy tale told to children to scare them to sleep. A lie."

Shogo Amakusa lifted his head towards the unseen skies beyond the ceiling and whispered, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" before Akahori shot him in the head. "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" was what he meant.

* * *

"What's going on?" the dazed Yahiko surmised while rubbing his eyes raw to confirm the truth of what they beheld. "Holy shit." He woke up from his reverie in time to leap at the gun-toting Akahori before the politician blasted Amakusa's brains out for good.

'What the hell am I doing? Why should I stop the Oyakata? Amakusa killed Gan, Minoe, and entire squads of policemen and spies, not to mention a thousand soldiers back in Shimabara, if the rumors were to be believed. Why should I save him now? I should let him die!'

Yahiko remembered Amakusa talking about his uncle's unwillingness to kill, which also reminded him of Kenshin's similar pacifistic ways the first time he met him.

As a ten year old, the teenager waved off the ex-rurouni's non-killing vow and niceness as a reflection of his strength: he was strong enough to win and not need to kill his enemies. Kenshin could afford to be merciful because of his awe-inspiring strength.

At that point, the teen knew exactly why Kenshin didn't bother with murder in his later life even though he made a career out of it earlier on. Then again, why did that standard have to apply to Yahiko's situation? Was his "monkey see, monkey do" attitude towards Kenshin's non-killing vow really that strong?

Yahiko certainly didn't have the Battousai's great strength to afford letting someone as dangerous as Amakusa get away. So much for his boast about the permanence of killing. They ended up as nothing more than lip service, when everything was said and done.

The teenaged samurai had absolutely no reason to even keep such a pledge, especially considering how ridiculously strong the Christian rebel was and how determined he was at terrorizing the government regardless of how many lives it cost.

Yahiko had no guilt complex over the death of a loved one that compelled him to not kill. He didn't have his own Tomoe Yukishiro to make him regret killing anybody. This was a situation where he himself believed that pragmatism overruled idealism.

What was the point? Why should he go on living the morals of another person even though they weren't applicable to him? Was he strong enough to live by borrowed ideals? Was he strong enough to go against them?

He didn't know. He had no idea. Nonetheless, he still went after the gun pointed at Amakusa's head regardless. Despite his countless misgivings, his body moved on its own accord, his sakabatou half-unsheathed, his legs in full sprint. He also pulled the same stunt when that mustachioed officer attempted to kill a former member of Shishio's group, Muto Kaname, last year in Echigo.

Yahiko snorted. Like it or not, Kenshin's kindness was probably in his blood by now. After all, he'd rather follow the example set by an ex-vagabond than a genocidal maniac who wasn't aware that he made life worse instead of better for his own people.

Even after Soujiro himself stood up and intercepted Yahiko with that goddamned Shukuchi of his to protect Akahori, the teenaged samurai confronted the Ten Ken head on with the same multi-hit technique he used against Gan a couple of days ago known to him as Men: Midareuchi from the Shibata School Kaoru taught at in Yokohama's Joetsukan Dojo.

As Yahiko expected, none of the six nigh-simultaneous Men, Kote, and Tsuki strikes hit the impossibly fast Soujiro in the slightest. He didn't intend for them to land anyway, judging by how he sidestepped the Ten Ken and lunged at Akahori without any regard to how exposed his back was for a counterattack.

For some reason, instead of decapitating Yahiko from behind, Seta chose to close the distance between them in order to parry the reverse-edged blade so that the two so-called prodigies were again face-to-face.

"Yahiko-san? You're alive? How long have you been in this room? I had a feeling you'd survive against Amakusa's onslaught! Congratulations!"

"Out of my way, Psycho-Kid! The Oyakata...!" None of Yahiko's worries and musings mattered anyway, because by the next instant, after Akahori pulled the trigger of his revolver, a svelte shadowy figure emerged from the ceiling and sliced the gun into quarters and eighths in a flash.

Soujiro turned, ripped through the debris-filled ground with horse-hoof poundings, pushed his employer out of the away of a slice that could've been fatal, and swung his blade at the newest arrival. They clashed weapons, and to the Ten Ken's mild surprise, his body got pushed back by the strength of the simple block.

The stranger had also been repelled by the bladed exchange, his outfit fluttering from the force of the blow, his feet skidding into the devastated ground and creating a trench of sorts that went ankle-deep. "That's a pretty powerful swing. And here I thought all you knew was battoujutsu and running fast."

Even before anyone's eyes could finish their involuntary blink, the silhouette vanished. A few moments later, the lithe and willowy person reappeared at the other side of the room, carrying Amakusa's lanky body and placing it at a corner right beside what used to be a coffee table and a Victorian gas lamp. For several moments, the figure merely stood there while the rest of the people inside the leveled guestroom gawked at him.

"Leave everything to me, Shogo-sama. I'll take care of the rest."

Akahori demanded, "Who are you? Are you part of Amakusa's cult? Show yourself!" even as he threw away the pistol grip of his sliced-up Smith and Wesson firearm and grinded his teeth together to keep at bay the pinching sensation emanating from the self-inflicted stab wound on his thigh.

Outside, the clouds parted and the third quarter moon filled the otherwise shadowy room with lunar luminescence. The short, girlish, and flaming-haired man entered the dust-filled spotlight, his lazy-eyed stare eliciting gasps from most everyone present, especially when the cross-shaped scar below his left eye, his old-style outfit, and his topknot hairstyle that waved back and forth from behind him like a horse's tail became visible under the moonlight. His daisho blades were already drawn, glinting with speckles of blood, skin, and bone.

Akahori and Yahiko respectively chorused, "Another Battousai?" and, "K-Kenshin?" after taking a real good look at the convincing Battousai impersonator.

'Aw, come on! I've already met Kenji and Chizuru! Aren't there enough identical strangers in the world? Who's next? A clone of Psycho-Kid? A deadpanning twin of Aoshi? Rooster Head's long-lost, spear-wielding brother-from-another-mother?' the Tokyo Samurai Descendant inwardly protested.

"H-Himura-san?" Soujiro muttered to himself although he'd already seen the intruder earlier on, specifically when he was leading Rin away from the Shinshushin Manor.

'That's right. This was the same Battousai imposter who ambushed me and took Rin-san back into the mansion. But why would he do that? He didn't even harm a hair on her body, come to think of it.'

"..." Rin elaborated, her nose twitching at the smell of fresh blood and other bodily fluids that emanated from the other member of the Battousai Group who also abducted her. 'I wonder which Battousai he is.'

To the surprise of everyone present, it was Yahiko who first trudged forward and confronted the Kenshin look-alike after the initial wave of silence passed. "Who the hell are you? Are you part of the Battousai Group? Have you come to take back the body of your cuckoo cult leader?"

To Yahiko's chagrin, Kenshin's long-lost, grownup twin brother gently pushed him aside and pointed his short sword at the smiling (more like beaming) face of Soujiro Seta.

'Is it me, or does Psycho-Kid look a lot more psychotic than usual?' To the redhead, the Tokyoite screamed, "HEY! I'm talking to you, asshole! Pay attention!"

"Ten Ken. We've already met earlier, but I wasn't able to introduce myself back then." The comely, lion-haired underling of Shogo Amakusa bowed low. "I'm the Battousai of Speed. I came here to murder the Akahori family. Feel free to stop me if you can."

'He even has the same effeminate voice as Kenshin! Not falsetto, but effeminate!' The hairs at the back of Yahiko's neck stood on end upon hearing the assassin's voice and identity. Without warning, a flash of comprehension and insight hit him right in the temple like a bullet to the brain.

'This... This is the guy Keisuke was referring to in his dying message to me! Not Psycho-Kid, not Amakusa, but this man! The Battousai of Speed is the true Fake Battousai, if that makes any sense!'

To Soujiro, Yahiko informed, "Psycho-Kid! This is the guy who massacred the Fake Battousai Group! He's the man who forced you to mercy-kill Keisuke!" The teenager didn't have time to gaze at Soujiro's reaction. A more important realization occurred to him upon remembering the supposed Battousai of Speed's declaration that he was about to massacre the Akahori Clan... all two of them... right then and there.

By instinct, Yahiko went over and protected the Akahori nearest him, Rin, by ushering her to the side of the room where Amakusa's body lay while Soujiro himself proceeded to shield his employer, Tetsuo, by sheathing his sword and adopting a half-squatting battoujutsu posture: an instinctive divide and conquer tactic, to be sure.

'Oh great, now I'm protecting the daughter of the guy who almost killed that mass murderer I also protected! Whose side am I on?' Yahiko asked himself, only for his consciousness to answer, 'Kenshin would've done the same thing.' And that was that.

The Battousai of Speed raised his wakizashi-wielding left hand over his head and kept his uchigatana-wielding right hand parallel to the short sword at stomach level as his ready stance. He then feinted a charge towards Yahiko before moving to his real target, the Juppon Gatana's Heaven Sword.

In the end, the redhead didn't need to feint or move after all, because the Ten Ken met him halfway and unsheathed a bone-cleaving slash towards the torso.

The second Battousai from the Battousai Group to come out of the woodwork crossed his swords and absorbed the full brunt of the battoujutsu strike with a full-body block, the strength of the blow pushing him back and lifting his feet for a moment or two.

That was the power of someone who could murder his adopted family with just a short sword in his arsenal.

'Kenshin's double is using a two-sword style. Is he going to fight like Aoshi or Takae and utilize that speed he's practically bragging about, or is he going to fight more like he's using Miyamoto Musashi's Hyoho Ni-Ten Ichi Ryu?' was what Yahiko mused after the Heaven Sword and the Battousai of Speed went into an impasse for about a full second.

'No, wait. The posture is all wrong for Aoshi's technique, Takae's technique, or even Musashi's technique. It's a two-sword stance, but a two-sword stance I've never seen before.'

The Ten Ken eased off and sidestepped the Kenshin look-alike's block and made the latter stumble over himself for about one-fourth of a second. 'So this is the man who murdered the entire Fake Battousai Group and inadvertently made Kyoko-san cry.'

The window of opportunity that opened was more than enough time for Soujiro to take another step forward and seemingly teleport behind the bogus Battousai, which allowed him to cut the imposter down the same way he did the real Battousai way back when.

'I get to have a rematch with Himura-san, huh?' Soujiro's smile grew wider and wider, almost to the point of splitting his face in half from the jaw onwards. "I accept your challenge."

In Seta's mind's eye, it wasn't hard for him to imagine himself and Kenshin battling it out for a rubber match after more than half a decade since they last clashed swords. He also knew he'd grown stronger than before because he managed to beat even the infamous Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki recently.

"S-Shogo-sama...!" the Battousai of Speed stuttered as he tumbled forward, his blurry eyes focused on the supine form of his unmoving, beloved leader, his wakizashi shuddering after keeping Soujiro's blade from slicing apart his spine.

He ended up on all fours, his back blazing with stinging heat, his eyes welling up with wet saltiness, his lungs and heart pounding against his rib cage as though they wanted to escape his chest. 'Is this it? The fight barely even started, and I'm already...!'

"Get up, Battousai-san. We're not yet done," Soujiro beckoned while swinging his blade around to remove the flecks of blood on it. 'The Kikuichi Monji wasn't able to slash him deep enough even though I was able to swing my blade as close to him as possible. It's like my fight with Himura-san all over again.'

The Kenshin imposter tried to remember the last time he ended up on the floor recently. His mind came up blank. Neither the faux Battousai Group nor the Togakudan put up much of a fight against him.

He concentrated, recalling snippets of his muscular master pounding him with sheathed swords, Amakusa stopping mere inches away from slicing up his flesh, and the back of a pony-tailed someone producing precise cuts and nicks all over his body with barely discernible iaijutsu slashes.

"What's the matter, Battousai-dono? Compared to Amakusa, you're barely even a threat against the Ten Ken!" said Akahori. "You should've run away with the body of your fearless leader while you still had a chance."

The Battousai of Speed's left cheek flared as he dug deeper into his psyche, but as though he'd touched a hot pan or stared at the sun directly for too long, his brain flinched and reeled from the memory of how he'd gotten his own cross-shaped scar. He shook his head to clear it.

'I mustn't underestimate the Ten Ken. This confrontation is something I've been training for my entire life! He's not as strong as Doraku-sensei, nor as skilled as Minakata-san, nor as well-versed in different techniques as Shogo-sama! I will not let Shogo-sama's sacrifices today be in vain. I've fought much better swordsmen than him!'

The Fake Battousai rose up and ignored the blinding fire that reached his back muscles and backbone. "You're not better than me, Seta Soujiro! I'll expose the weaknesses of your techniques and show everyone here how one-dimensional you really are!"

'Is this guy for real or is he in denial?' Yahiko stopped himself from laughing out loud. 'Psycho-Kid was able to do what entire police squadrons or people who are actually familiar with Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu couldn't do: bring Amakusa down. Granted, this Fake Battousai massacred a whole gang on his own, but those were mere thugs. The real Kenshin Junior here is Psycho-Kid.'

A minute later, Yahiko conked himself on the head for thinking such strange thoughts, which made Rin give him a quizzical look. 'Since when did I become Psycho-Kid's fanboy? Kenshin Junior? Seriously? Kenshin beat that kid up with a blunt sword that can cut things as well as a chair leg. All Psycho-Kid has is speed and battoujutsu anyway!'

The boy furrowed his eyebrows and turned his head to the side. 'Speed and battoujutsu... Is that what the faker means by 'one-dimensional'?'

While Yahiko hemmed and hawed over how genuine the Battousai of Speed's threats were or how good the Heaven Sword's skills were, the redheaded pretender shifted his sword over his head and his wakizazhi over his waist, threw his short sword up in the air, screamed, "Flying Tail Stinger!" and charged at the stationary Soujiro.

With chortling laughter, Akahori's head bodyguard considered the Battousai of Speed's words of warning. 'One-dimensional, huh?' He then came to the same conclusion as Yahiko did, which enabled him to answer back his opponent's charge and demeaning accusation loud and clear: 'The Shukuchi and battoujutsu aren't the only things I'm good at.'

The Battousai of Speed choked on his earlier insult after he was forced to block over nine simultaneous strikes to the head, shoulders, ribs, thighs, crotch, and chest, realizing right then and there that Shishio's prodigy was capable of pulling off the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu's second strongest attack thanks to his godly Shukuchi.

'I can't... I can't read his sakki or kenki at all. Why doesn't he have any blood thirst in him whenever he attacks? He's not normal! He's like Master Doraku...!'

Again, as Yahiko witnessed the second exchange between the terrorist and the guardian, his mind wandered back to the memory of Minoe producing nine simultaneous blocks to nullify Amakusa's own Nine-Headed Dragon Flash a few hours or so ago.

However, the Battousai doppelganger wasn't nearly as good at defense as the late Togakudan spy, judging by the sudden appearance of a fine red mist that sprayed all over him and the unblocked sword thrust to his body.

'It's either Psycho-Kid is too good, or Mister Battousai here isn't as good as everyone expected him to be. Even a half-dead Amakusa did better against the Ten Ken than him.' The Tokyo teenager scratched his chin. 'When I first fought Psycho-Kid, did I look as pathetic as he does now?'

For the second time, the Fake Battousai dropped down to the floor, skidding on the seat of his pants because his knockdown was somewhat an intentional one that he allowed to happen in order to avoid getting run through, his outfit filled with shallow cuts and bloodstains while his spurting midsection dyed his undershirt a bright shade of red.

The phony Battousai bit his lip and clutched his scabbard-less katana's handle hard while his vision blurred several times thanks to unbidden tears and his worsening wooziness. 'How dare he steal one of Shogo-sama's moves! I'll make him suffer for his arrogance,' he raged inwardly while covering his somewhat exposed, bandage-covered chest with his right hand.

Meanwhile, on Soujiro's part, he didn't completely commit to his plunging sword stab because he had to retreat and avoid the dropping wakizashi that would've landed on top of his head, shoulder, bicep, or forearm had he continued with his attack. Ergo, the short sword landed in between the winded and wheezing Battousai of Speed's legs with a dull thunk on one of the remaining floorboards while the Ten Ken kept his distance.

"It's funny how you're claiming to be a Battousai of something when you don't even know how to use battoujutsu. Maybe the pressure of bearing that infamous name is too much for you to handle," Akahori heckled while the untouched Seta maintained a flat stare and a thin line for a mouth that neither formed a smile or a frown. "Come on. You can't name yourself 'Battousai' without at least living up to his name in some way, shape, or form. Where are your sword-drawing techniques?"

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **Strengths and weaknesses.

_Again, as per usual, Amakusa has from time to time quoted the bible as demonstrated by the biblical insults he hurled at Akahori as well as the famous "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" quote from Jesus Christ himself. Furthermore, the "Substituting leisure for labor" quote was from "The Thirty-Six Stratagems" of Zhuge Liang. All rights reserved._

**Taas noo kahit kanino,****_  
_**Abdiel


	24. Chapter 24

_A stray memory from a long time ago, within the infamous historical district of Yoshiwara... _

"Mommy? Mizuki-san, where are you?" what appeared to be a redheaded little boy blubbered, every inch of his body crying out and suffocating from an unreachable hurt he couldn't begin to describe. The sun hadn't come up yet, and the sky was blanketed with a dull gray awning. By this time, his mother would be busy with her work.

He afterwards noticed the large, scraggly, and muscle-bound brute carrying him like a sack of potatoes. "W-What? Who are you? Put me down NOW! Mommy! MOMMY! MIZUKI-SAN! A STRANGER IS TRYING TO KIDNAP ME! HELP, ANYONE! PLEASE!"

"What's wrong with you, kid? That woman you're with is dead now. Don't you remember what happened last night?" the stranger barked in a deep baritone that stopped the young lad's cries right on the spot.

The boy had a better look at the man and espied his heavily bandaged chest with stains of redness, his high ponytail that made his bundled hair appear like a cascading stream of burnt rice paddies, the thick layer of dirt that caked over his yellowing jacket and hakama with black zigzagging trim patterns reminiscent of the Shinsengumi uniform, his bandaged forearms, and most importantly, the unmistakable metallic tang emanating from the drying blood that covered both of their sweaty bodies.

A vision of him vivisected by the monster that carried him took over his mind, every nerve of his body begging him to run away or die fighting against this abomination before every bit and chunk of his person got ripped into shreds by the man who smelled of blood and death.

The kid struggled against the greasy, stomach-churning man's tight grip, saying all sorts of things he couldn't remember later on, punching, screaming, biting, and kicking until he was released. His blood pressure rose upon seeing that meat slab of a man not react, not even flinch, at his assaults while his brain suppressed something that chilled him to the bone and replaced his burning rage with cold sweat. In any case, the muscleman let go of him anyway.

He ran away from the hulking brute as fast as he could, his heaving bosom and his searing lungs near the point of bursting by the time he reached the middle of a dirt road, his arm resting on a nearby tree. He then squeezed his eyes shut as he scrounged his throbbing brain for any clues as to what exactly happened earlier.

He felt as though one of his mother's customers had found him and beat him up for sport. Ronin were particularly abusive to street urchins like himself. Samurais who still had masters to serve didn't even give him a second glance. However, some of them gave him strange looks that made his body feel like it was covered in slime and excrement.

Every time they did, his mother would usher him away and insist to him that somehow, someway, he'd have to leave that district and turn a new leaf of sorts. He shouldn't follow her footsteps, and he must live a new life by the time he turned fourteen years of age. One more year, and he'd have to leave the woman who saved him from certain oblivion: Mizuki Morinaga.

His mother said that he most certainly could become a new person because of his little secret that he must never, ever disclose to anyone, up to the point of barely even thinking about it in his head.

'Mizuki-san also said something about celebrating my coming of age with beans and red-colored rice before I left home, I think. Huh. I thought only samurai families celebrated coming-of-age ceremonies for their children. She can be so weird sometimes...'

He winced as he felt a stinging wetness on his left cheek near his half-lidded eye. He opened both eyes, held that portion of his face with his hand, then looked at the resulting mark: a cross-shaped bloodstain appeared on his palm once his eyes readjusted themselves to the darkness.

"Did that greasy old man do this to me? He's insane! A sadist! A pervert! Why should I believe a hobo like him? I have to go back home! There's no way Mommy's dead! He's just some crazy homeless guy who picked me up and cut me apart... or something. What's important is that Mommy is still alive. That man is either confused or a liar. She's still alive, dammit...!"

The hairs on the back of the boy's neck rose on end as he felt the presence of a wild beast from behind him.

"Are you serious? You don't remember anything about what happened at all, kid?"

"ACK! Are you a ninja? How'd you get here so fast?"

The boy must've leapt back two yards away after hearing the grease ball of a man talk from behind him, his eyebrow raised and his head tilted at him like some sort of deaf-mute person.

"R-Remember what? Who the hell are you? W-Why do you keep following me? What do you want? M-Money? I don't have any! Leave me alone or I'll call the c-cops on you!"

He felt like he'd been running forever, yet in the span of mere minutes, the... stinking, blood-covered stalker or hooligan or assassin or criminal or masterless samurai or homeless person or whoever kept up with him!

The child squeaked and stumbled on his feet several times before he pumped his wobbly legs anew. Alas, the scary beefcake of a stranger had already grabbed hold of his shirt's collar and pulled him back before he could get away.

"Fine. Whatever. Your mom or whoever is dead. I'm not lying. She died yesterday. Look me in the eyes and you'll see that I'm not lying."

The thirteen-year-old kid did what he was told, only to reel back and cringe at what he saw: Bloodshot eyes so red they seemingly glowed, chapped lips that looked like a squashed centipede with a paper-thin body, flaking skin, wizened features that remained at odds with his bear-like bulk, and shrunken irises the size of pebbles.

The man rolled his eyes and pushed the boy aside, his nostrils flaring while he licked his lips moist. "Okay, fine. I'll go out on a limb and escort you back to Yoshiwara to prove to you that your mother is dead. You can check out what happened there. The police will be looking for me... probably... but I need to get back the swords I left behind anyway."

'Enlightened Buddha, this man owns a pair of swords? So he is a ronin! Either that or a bandit! What am I going to do?' The scar on the kid's cheek flared anew as his face and body dribbled bullets of perspiration. Supposing that his mother truly was... in dire straits, was this man responsible for that and his cross-shaped scar too? What happened anyway?

He shook his head and slapped his cheeks, which made him yelp because he accidentally worsened the pain of his recently formed wound. He almost bought the smelly ronin's cock-and-bull story! "Why do you have to go with me? Why do you care so much? What does this have to do with you anyway?"

The red-haired boy saw the curious spectacle of the mountain of muscle deflating and collapsing as though his well-developed body were nothing more than a blimp filled with air.

The tired brute looked at him with irises so clear he could see himself in them: His mouth agape, his indigo eyes unblinking, his right... no, left cheek bearing a pair of intersecting scars, and his skin whiter than winter.

Just as the man was about to open his mouth and speak, he turned away and paced around while keeping his distance from the expectant gaze of the redhead, his movements as stiff as an arthritic old man's. He then scratched his chin and his stubble of sideburns before declaring, "I'm the one who killed your mother."

* * *

**Rurouni Yahiko**

A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation by Chester Castañeda

_Whose weaknesses are going to get exposed this time around?_

**Disclaimer: **All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

* * *

**Chapter 24: An Easy Fight **

* * *

_Back to the relative present, inside the guestroom of the Akahori Mansion... _

As though electrocuted by an offshoot bolt of lightning, the wound-up Yahiko Myojin jumped back after feeling someone touch his shoulder. "Ah! What? Who? Oh... It's you, um, Miss... Rin, right?" He gasped while holding his pounding chest with his left hand, his sakabatou long ago sheathed. "Did you need something?"

"Is there something the matter, Myojin-san? You've been pacing back and forth all this time," Rin noted, her eyes involuntarily moving, the whiteness of her dazzling skin illuminated by the pale moonlight. "If you're worrying about your own safety, then don't fret. Seta-kun will easily defeat the Battousai of Speed."

"Hey! I'm not worrying about my safety at all! And you shouldn't bank on 'Seta-kun' too much either, because he's far from perfect! He had already been defeated before by someone who looks exactly like that redheaded rebel, in fact!" Yahiko protested to the silver-eyed Akahori daughter, his hands on his waist as he challenged her hasty (but not incorrect) conclusions.

"Well, he doesn't stand a chance right now. If he's the Battousai of _Speed_, then he must not be as skilled or strong as his comrades. He's also not using Battousai's sword style either. Speed is all he has, so there's no way he'd win against someone like Seta-kun when it comes to speed."

"What do you mean by that?" Yahiko couldn't explain the feeling that gripped his heart while staring at the face of the snow-white girl before him, her piercing, ashen eyes darting all over his body and peering through his actions with the all-knowing glare of a magnifying lens.

He averted his eyes and avoided eye contact. "How can you be sure of how strong or skilled he is? Have you seen him fight before?"

"Oh. Don't misunderstand. This is the first time I've ever seen that man fight. I also didn't mean that he _completely_ lacks skill or strength. What I meant was that, according to the Togakudan and the goverment's own secret service, there have been reports of other Battousai Group members like him."

"Uh, so...?" asked Yahiko with a tilted head.

The thin and pasty girl brushed her short, light blonde hair back, bit her lower lip, and blew a strand of her shiny bangs in front of her face while she picked her words carefully, remembering the puzzled look that Soujiro gave her when she tried explaining to him what he needed to do to become a "complete" person back in East Valley near Shinshu.

"Out there exists a Battousai of Strength, a Battousai of Skill, and even a Battousai of Style, otherwise known as Amakusa Shogo. The Battousai Group is called as such because it's composed of different types of Battousai. Thinking that the Battousai of Speed isn't as skilled, strong, or stylistically grounded as other members of his group is a reasonable deduction to make."

"Oh. I see. Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Yahiko remembered that, earlier on, Shogo indeed referred to himself as the Battousai of Style. He then scratched his cheek while watching the twice-humiliated Battousai of Speed get up on his wobbly feet for the second time in the duel.

'I guess even someone who presumably did his homework on Psycho-Kid will still be in shock once the real fight begins. I know how that Kenshin look-alike feels. I've been through the same thing. Psycho-Kid's innate talent in swordsmanship is... scary.'

"My daughter is right. For a Battousai of Speed, he's not any faster than Seta-kun. If Battousai-dono only has speed as his claim to fame, then he will lose against Shishio Makoto's Ten Ken. Coupled with the fact that he recently saw his idol fall against the person he's currently facing, it's plain to see why he's doing so terribly right now," Tetsuo Akahori chimed in before gesturing towards Soujiro Seta and ordering, "Seta-kun. Finish him off."

"People who aren't even involved in this fight should just SHUT UP! You don't know any better!" the Battousai of Speed snarled at Rin, Yahiko, and Tetsuo as he steadied his rickety legs that shook even though his bones didn't actually suffer from rickets at all.

"The Amakusa that the Ten Ken defeated had to go through a veritable gauntlet of enemies before facing him. The Battousai that _defeated_ the Heaven Sword lacked killer instinct and a proper blade. The vagabond version of Himura Kenshin had fought the Okashira of the Oniwabanshu beforehand to boot. I will not be defeated by someone who preys upon weakened opponents," swore the redhead.

Although the second knockdown was more of the Fake Battousai avoiding a deeper wound than an actual instance where he flopped down on the floor because he was separated from his senses, the first knockdown that nearly cut him in half remained a true one that took away the steadiness of his knees, the strength of his strikes, and the accuracy of his attacks. Nevertheless...

The neutral expression on Soujiro's face again transformed into a beam of beatific calmness after he become aware of the fire within the unstable but still-standing Battousai of Speed. "Have I woken up the sleeping dragon within you, Himura-san?" the Heaven Sword asked without realizing his slip of the tongue.

'How nostalgic. Has it already been six years? To me, it seems like it was just yesterday when we fought to a near draw, the strength of your resolve surpassing my speed.'

Soujiro imagined the redhead before him falling into the ever-familiar battoujutsu stance that ultimately defeated him. "Come at me with everything you've got. I want to know how powerful I've become since the last time we fought."

The Fake Battousai put up a brave front even as the entire guestroom became a war zone, the geysers from Soujiro's Shukuchi exploding like simultaneously activated land mines on the ceiling, floor, and walls.

'This is the multidirectional attack he used on Shogo-sama earlier. As usual, he's smiling like a crazy person, and he doesn't have a hint of sword spirit, fighting spirit, or killing spirit in his body. He's like a blank slate.' The Kenshin look-alike snorted and frowned. 'Thankfully, there are other ways of detecting an invisible enemy.'

The Battousai of Speed fell into his defensive Cancer Stance yet again, his fingers trembling in anticipation of the upcoming attack. He recalled spying through the space between the guestroom's ceiling and the second floor of the mansion (as he hid himself from plain sight) how ineffective the Ryu Sou Sen was against Seta's full speed, which prompted him to cut the remaining floorboards around him and use them as shields of sorts to protect him from the blade slashes he couldn't see.

In a dragonfly's wing flap, the upturned floorboards right in front of Amakusa's ward were shredded to little bits and pieces, which allowed him to determine the whereabouts of his invisible opponent and trap his sword or limb with crisscrossed swords, which was otherwise known as his Cancer Stance's Scissor Grip.

However, he stopped himself short of doing the move after he realized that the sliced pieces of the panels ended up far too big for a full-on assault. Soujiro didn't bother completely destroying the boards with his full strength. From the Battousai of Speed's experience, a halfhearted attack meant either a setup or a feint for something even more fatal.

'It's like magic how the Heaven Sword is able to move in multiple routes at once. But no, that's not quite true. He's merely moving so fast that it _appears_ like he's defying physics and moving through two places at the same time. He can do this by traveling in a fast spiral that covers a wide area, from the walls to the floor to the ceiling. Wait, the ceiling...!'

The Fake Battousai looked up in time to see Soujiro reappear right on the ceiling with a sword thrust aimed right between the religious insurgent's eyes. The Battousai doppelganger moved to the side in time to barely avoid instantaneous death, but he still ended up stabbed on the side of his shoulder.

Nonetheless, the Battousai of Speed's open-mouthed teeth gnash somehow resembled a demented smile instead of an anguished jaw clench. After all, he still managed to read his opponent's moves for the first time since the fight began.

His synapses fired up even further to give him yet another important realization. Because the Ten Ken was falling in midair, his hoof-like feet had no leverage to make himself faster. Without any ground to walk on, he was as fast as anyone else inside that room.

"I got you now, Ten Ken! Scorpio Stance: Deathstalker Stab!" the Battousai of Speed hissed as he prepared a counterstrike at the descending Soujiro while shifting to his more aggressive posture.

However, in reaction to the tit-for-tat thrust, Seta pushed the Fake Battousai back with his sword while the counter grazed his chest, set himself upright, pulled the cross-scarred man up by the collar with his katana as though it were a fisherman's rod, grabbed hold of the rebel's undershirt, and threw the redhead into the blocky pit that he and Amakusa made in their previous bout.

The Battousai of Speed fell into the hollow grave with a resounding, debris-filled crash that rocked the room. Aside from the slight stain of blood on his bandaged thigh and a small cut to the chest, the Ten Ken remained none the worse for wear.

The entire shogi-like exchange took no more than mere seconds to happen, but the breaths that everybody else had been holding left them feeling as though they'd recently been saved from drowning. Soujiro gasped for air too, but for different reasons entirely.

'As usual, his sword talent is as divine and god-given as his moniker suggests. Is there nothing Psycho-Kid can't do?' Yahiko surmised after seeing how little offense the blustering Battousai of Speed offered.

He then raised an eyebrow at Soujiro, who if he didn't know any better looked utterly stunned by what he did. 'What's his problem? Don't tell me that he's in awe of his own skill or something. Don't get full of yourself! You make me want to punch you on the nose!'

Although his smile remained on his face, Soujiro's irises shrunk to the size of raisins while the whites of his nigh-bulging eyes had hints of redness. His pallor also nearly matched that of Rin's save for his cheeks, which burned up red, while the trail of sweat on the side of his head remained as cold as ice. The fingers on the hand that grabbed hold of the Fake Battousai twitched every now and then.

"Seta-kun, what's the matter?" the elder Akahori asked, his eyebrows furrowed, which made his sliced nose sting a little. He remembered Soujiro calling the Himura Battousai double "Himura-san", so he had a feeling that the boy might've been affected by his own delusions.

'Is he feeling shock or disappointment over the fact that the Battousai he's fighting isn't the Battousai that defeated him?'

To Seta, Tetsuo commanded, "What are you waiting for? Finish him off now. He hasn't recovered yet from his earlier knockdowns. He's ripe for the taking. Quit toying with him and kill him with one strike!"

"Akahori-san, the Battousai of Speed is...!" Soujiro began.

* * *

_Many years ago in Yoshiwara... _

"W-What?" the redhead managed to sputter as the world spun around him, his heart shattering into a million pieces at hearing the ridiculous things the obviously disturbed and pitiful man was spouting in spite of himself. "N-No. Y-You're lying. You're trying to kidnap me or k-kill me. Or something worse. Get away from me!"

"Don't flatter yourself, kid. Why the hell would I want to kidnap a brat like you?" The odiferous, blood-soaked hobo scratched behind his ears and picked his nose while his tongue pushed his cheek forward from the inside of his mouth, which produced a small bump of sorts. "Your mother's name was Mizuki, right?"

"Oh, don't you dare start with me!" The boy struggled under the weight of two hefty, rock-hard biceps while the stranger cooked up even more tall tales to tell him. "You must've overheard her name from me when I was trying to get away from you! You can't fool me, mister!"

"Ah, but you haven't described to me what she looks like, have you? She's about five feet and four inches in height, she looks like a young teenager for her age of mid-thirty, she has a childlike face but a fully grown woman's body, so there's a mix between innocence and allure..."

The tangerine-haired boy aborted his planned kick to the stranger's shin and groin after he realized the earnestness of the suspicious outsider's words when it came to describing his guardian. "So you were Mom's... customer once upon a time. Of course you'd know what she'd look like."

"I'm not yet finished telling my side of the story. Listen to everything I'm about to say from start to finish, kiddo." The muscular man put his heavy hands on the child's shoulders, which forced the latter to squat as his knees buckled from the weight.

"I had an impromptu grudge match against a group of shogunate assassins while I was serving as one of your mother's regulars, as you said. They cheated and used hidden weapons while ganging up on me. You got beat up bad while protecting your mother and they nearly blinded you with their cane sword slashes, which explains the scar on your left cheek."

Amidst the boy's cries of "It hurts!" and "Let go of me, please!" the well-built human titan shut his eyes and looked the other way.

"During my fight with this one-armed asshole and his friends who must've been as high as kites, she ended up a casualty. The bastard used her as a human shield, and I had no choice but to stab through her with the cane sword I stole from them. You've been knocked out cold by the time that happened."

"N-No way."

In the middle of flashing back to a hazy memory of him also saying the words "It hurts!" and "Let go of me, please!" while pinned under the weight of a bigger man, the boy saw red upon realizing his unhinged captor's words: A confirmation of what he feared. A confession of a crime. A deplorable act beyond his control that irreversibly changed his life.

"It happened around yesterday evening. The police should've taken their bodies to the morgue by now. You and I were the only survivors of that massacre. My sincerest apologies for your loss. Don't you have any next of kin I can drop you off to or something?"

"Mizuki-san is the only family I ever had, AND YOU TOOK HER AWAY FROM ME! Give her back! GIVE MY MOMMY BACK TO ME!"

The boy saw images of the youkai turned human tearing him apart like an amalgamated pack of hungry wolves within his mind's eye. Regardless of where or how he attacked, the monster's presence convinced his body, his very nervous system, that it was all an exercise in futility. However, he didn't care and fought anyway, his sense of self-preservation long ago discarded.

The kid swung for the fences with his small fists, streaks of red lightning searing his eyes, his jaw shut and clenched as he hit or attempted to hit everything within striking range of his arms, not at all caring if the ogre before him retaliated.

"I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEAR TO THE HEAVENS, I'LL KILL YOU! EVEN IF I DIE, I'LL HAUNT YOU TILL YOUR DYING DAYS!"

His nostrils flared as he punched, kicked, bit, and scratched at this uncaring, insensitive killer who murdered his beloved Mizuki just to win some stupid brawl. The kid hurled at the scraggly bastard the same salty insults Mizuki's clients shouted at her through paper thin walls that he pretended not to hear.

"I'd say sorry, but that won't bring back your mother."

A punch to the child's temple... he thought it was a punch, though it might as well have been a sledgehammer strike... separated him from his senses as he flopped down to the ground as though his spine had been ripped out from behind him.

"That's some mouth you have there! You got spunk, kid. However, if you want to kill me, you better get in line and reserve your spot. You're not the first or last person who wants me dead."

The boy spat at the masterless samurai's face.

"When you're staring at me with those sharp eyes, you really do remind me of that scary redheaded girly man hitokiri. It's creepy!" The greasy ronin cackled. "Creepy yet interesting."

"What the hell are you talking about?" the red-haired boy demanded, but got no answer in return.

The newly orphaned boy grabbed hold of his head as shadowy creatures from his subconscious swarmed him until he drowned in moisture, flesh, and miscellaneous bodily fluids. Also, for some reason, he kept hearing the name, "Battousai" in his recurring nightmares.

Why was that? What was a Battousai? Why did that word, term, name, or whatever it was made his eyes well up and his stomach churn?

The burly murderer guffawed a little more before stopping his laughter altogether and dressing the wounds that the boy inflicted upon him immediately with the excess bandages spooled across his own forearms. The woozy, red-haired kid then noticed that he himself had been wrapped with the same bandages as well.

"No. This won't do at all. It can't be helped. I have to keep my promise to your caretaker to keep you safe. Live a normal life and go back to Yoshiwara..." The humanoid behemoth grumbled to himself before turning back to the recovering child and stating. "Wait. Your mother wouldn't want that either."

The ronin knelt down beside the sprawled body of the boy, his arms spread open like a bear waiting to crush his prey's every bone with a simple flex of his bulging muscles. "Look. I'm a reasonable man. What happened was my fault, and you're only demanding justice for your loss. That's fine. I completely understand. However, as far as I'm concerned, you have two choices."

To the redhead's alarm, the murderous swordsman grabbed his nauseous head by the fiery tips of his hair and tugged his face forward. "One, you can go back to Yoshiwara and let your mother's killer get away with murder... or maybe manslaughter. Two, you can hang around with me so that I can teach you how to kill me, and someday, if you still have the urge to avenge your mother's death, then you'll have the strength to fight me to the death."

* * *

The Fake Battousai stood up, his eyes glassy, his mouth completely shut, his hair billowing from winds produced by his third knockdown, his posture stooped and relaxed, and his swords at either side of him.

He grabbed hold of his body and cheek in remembrance of that fateful night: The night he met his master and was given two strange choices that'd help decide his ultimate destiny.

In the blink of an eye... like with Soujiro's Reduced Earth technique sans the exploding fountains of wreckage on the floor... the Kenshin doppelganger disappeared and reappeared right beside the "happily" flabbergasted Ten Ken.

'What the...? I thought I was imagining things when he first did it earlier, but now I'm sure his blinding speed is real! Does the Battousai of Speed have his own version of Shinsoku or Shukuchi?' Yahiko deliberated while he kept hold of the sakabatou's handle in case worse came to worst.

"I'll make you regret what you did. Die. Scorpio Stance: Swarming Barbs." In tandem, the short sword and the normal-length sword drilled themselves continuously at the general vicinity of the wide-eyed Soujiro without any regard for accuracy or leverage, replacing precision with volume.

This untamed flurry of stabs was one of the Battousai of Speed's two multi-hit techniques that most resembled the wild Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu move known as the Dragon Nest Flash even though it lacked the requirement of accurately hitting the vital points of the body.

A vision filled with puddles of blood took over the lazy-eyed Battousai look-alike's mind: His suppressed memories. His mother's screams, begging for them to stop. Their suffocating weight. Their disgusting stench. Their drooling mouths. Their wet tongues. Their moist stares.

The growing flame in his heart flickered into despair as his nightmare went on and on. Had he believed in a god back then, he would've thought of him as cruel, uncaring, or dead.

His hallucination cleared in time to see Soujiro hightail his way out of the pounding waves of steel in order to avoid getting gored by a hundred alternating stabs from an uchigatana and a wakizashi. Yet again, the Heaven Sword's Shukuchi proved to be a lifesaver and an equalizer all at the same time.

Soujiro swung his blade as he moved back with the Shukuchi. This was a technique he'd been practicing in order to allow him to hit his enemies without getting struck back himself. However, for one reason or another, his blade passed right through the Battousai of Speed as though he were an incorporeal ghost.

'Did I merely misjudge the distance of my strike? Or was this the same technique he used in order to snatch Rin-san away from my grasp back in the East Valley?'

The Ten Ken blinked. "Oh, before I forget, thank you for not harming one hair on Rin-san's head earlier. I was worried you'd kill her to get to me and Akahori-san, but I'm glad that wasn't the case, Battousai-of-Speed-san," Seta expressed his gratitude while his opponent looked as though he could explode at any moment.

"SHUT UP AND FIGHT! Or better yet, I'll shut you up for good!" the redhead answered in kind, his spittle flying everywhere as he attacked the general area where Soujiro stood with his multiple stabs, rendering everything before him into unidentifiable grains and fragments.

'Those Swarming Barbs work just like Usui-san's Boken Bogyoku Hyaka Ryoran. It also sacrifices accuracy for wide-area destruction. Even with this technique alone, it's enough for him to have the power to murder entire police squadrons in an instant. He would've fit in with the Juppon Gatana quite splendidly had Shishio-san ever deemed him worthy enough to join our group.'

Soujiro contemplated charging headlong as soon as the Battousai of Speed overextended himself with his eruption of spearing movements, but that never came to be. Right after hitting nothing but air and the floor where the Ten Ken had stood, the Fake Battousai immediately went back to his defensive Cancer Stance posture, his wakizashi raised over his head and his katana resting near his thigh in a parallel fashion.

The Heaven Sword had to make a wall-scaling detour after his intended counterattack backfired, his blade bouncing off the Battousai of Speed's wakizashi parry as he narrowly avoided a Deathstalker Stab that shifted immediately into another flurry of Swarming Barbs.

"Stop running away and fight me like a man, Ten Ken!" A bloodcurdling scream clawed its way out of the Fake Battousai's throat as he again missed his target by mere hairbreadths.

'The way Battousai-dono is fighting now, it's only a matter of time before Seta-kun triumphs,' the Oyakata assessed. 'He's fighting with anger and desperation. I was a bit worried by that technique of his where he can disappear and reappear at will, but now I'm not so worried. As long as he's leading the attack and chasing after Seta-kun's shadow, I have nothing to fear.'

Soujiro's cheeks grew warm. For one reason or another, his recollections of the androgynous Kamatari Honjo emerging naked from a hot spring bath and the late Yumi Komagata allowing him to rest on her soft lap after his defeat in the hands of Kenshin Himura floated into the surface of his psyche while his hands shivered at the memory of what it touched recently.

Akahori's head bodyguard afterwards replied to his opponent's taunts. "Up until now, you're still unnerved by what I did? Then I apologize. However, if you want to be treated as a man, you better act like one."

While only Soujiro's face went red, the Battousai of Speed's entire body turned completely crimson before blinking in and out of existence. Every time he ended up beside his prey, he unleashed as many Deathstalker Stabs and Swarming Barbs as he could muster. Thanks to the Ten Ken's floor-rending Shukuchi and the Fake Battousai's nonstop offense, the room turned into a veritable battlefield of complete devastation.

'What the hell are they talking about?' Yahiko mused amidst the high speed blurs of both Soujiro and the Battousai double. From behind him, Rin had shut her eyes and let her ears listen to the rhapsody of clashing swords, whizzing missed strikes, and pounding feet.

Before he knew it, the Battousai of Speed espied no boyish swordsman with a smile that never left his face. He instead saw an overpowering tidal wave of flesh and steel.

The familiar smell of metal sharpened his senses like sandstone would a blade. It reminded him of the tangy scent left by the Fake Battousai Group's weapons and, later on, blood as he massacred them back in their East Valley hideout.

"It looks as if you've been through quite a lot. I'd sympathize if I could, but first thing's first," Soujiro supposed while bouncing on the balls of his feet and slashing away at the seemingly impenetrable waves of Swarming Barbs.

In the span of a second, the Ten Ken used his Shukuchi to give himself some running room, sheathed his sword before the Fake Battousai realized that something was amiss, then charged with another leaping battoujutsu strike.

"Cancer Stance: Vice Grip."

The intersecting blades this time around formed a crucifix on Morinaga's side, the katana serving as the vertical base while the wakizashi kept Soujiro's Kikuichi Monji from tearing him in half from the armpit onwards. "You're in my way. Akahori Tetsuo must die. Let our people go."

Nonetheless, the sword that Kaede was supposed to disarm turned out to be a sheathe, which allowed Soujiro to unleash a turning, close-range sword-drawing slash at Amakusa's apprentice while keeping his daisho at bay with the scabbard.

The Battousai of Speed countered immediately with a Deathstalker Stab, but the Ten Ken avoided being impaled by it simply because he never had any intention of fully committing to his attack.

All Soujiro wanted to do was to slice through the fabric of his opponent's upper garments in order to expose something that had been bothering him since he threw the redhead into the manmade ditch and inadvertently groped the rebel's chest.

"Is this what you've been hiding from us, Battousai-of-Speed-san?" asked Seta as the terrorist's kimono unfastened itself and his sarashi (or the bandages covering his chest) were torn open, revealing breasts far too soft and round to belong to a man of the same petite build.

Yahiko's mouth formed a moue of incredulity while the father and daughter on either side of him turned into statues.

"W-Wait. H-He's a _she_?"

* * *

_Many years ago in Yoshiwara... _

As soon as the cross-scarred redhead heard the man's proposal, he realized he was dealing with a complete lunatic. "Why would you... train me to kill you? Why would you do that? Why me? I'm just the child of one of your countless victims! That... doesn't make any sense! What in Kannon's name are you going to get out of it?"

For the swordsman's part, his ear-to-ear grin while he scratched the growing stubble over his lantern jaw indicated his thoughts on the matter quite clearly. If he had the yogic ability to pat himself on the back, he would've done so.

"Let's not overcomplicate things. I'm not doing this for you, but for me. This should serve as your first life lesson, kid. Life ain't fair, and you have to earn your own keep. Well, that's two lessons, but I suggest you take my offer regardless. I myself think it's a sweet deal."

"You're crazy!" The young boy pushed the large man away at the cost of letting a tuft of his hair remain in his beefy hands. "You killed my mother because she was in the way of your stupid duel! Train me? I don't even want anything to do with you! Why do I need to kill you? Why don't you just curl up in a ball and die?"

"Because I can't die yet. I have some unfinished business to attend to. Even though I did you wrong, I won't commit sepukku because you want me to. You have to earn the right to kill me if you want to avenge your mother's death. Otherwise, you're free to go back to Yoshiwara to follow her footsteps or go ahead and tread your own path without ever having the guts to face your mother's killer when it counted the most."

The kid didn't know what to think as he charged at the talking brick wall before him and punched at him till either his lungs or the knuckles of his hands gave out. Part of him still couldn't believe what the madman told him.

Another shot that the young man couldn't see brought him down on all fours, his amateurish attacks rendered null and void thanks to the ronin's armor-like muscles, from his deltoids to his pectorals. The kid wanted to know the truth. If what this nutty swordsman said were true, then he wanted the chance for vengeance as well.

He trusted the man as far as he could throw him, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If this demon on earth was deluded or arrogant enough to give him the tools necessary to kill him, then so be it. He would play his game, lie in wait, and learn his ways. If he needed to become a monster himself in order to finish his mother's murderer off, then he was fine with that too.

The boy had a new purpose to fulfill: Kill the man who murdered the woman that provided his life with a happiness he lost in an instant, without him even noticing.

"I like those eyes of yours, punk. You look angry enough to kill me right now. It's about a hundred years too early for you to even think about doing that, but I approve of your attitude. I got to warn you, though. Unless you can surpass the strength I already have, you'll never be able to avenge your mother's death. I have no intention of letting my guard down because some snot-nosed kid thinks he can one-up me."

He rose up, kicked dirt into the demon's eyes, and hit its bandaged chest even as he felt his ribs groan and creak from its counterstrike blow to his side. He fell for the third time, his body twitching from the fire that exploded near his belly.

"Shit. I need to wash my eyes later. Fucking brat. Ah, whatever. I'll teach you how to kill me, and maybe... just maybe... you'll end up as my last great challenge when I'm as wrinkled as a prune and have hair as white as bird shit. Maybe even sooner. Let's get started. It's time for me to go back to Yoshiwara to fetch my swords anyway. You're coming with me, of course."

The fiend who seemed unfamiliar with human ways and social mores picked up the morose and beat-up brat by the scruff of his kimono and dragged him off to Yoshiwara as the dawn of a new day approached.

"Tell me your name, you bastard," the tuckered-out child growled low as his mother's murderer hauled him around like luggage.

"What?"

"I want to know the name of the man who killed my mother."

"Akatsuki. Akatsuki Doraku. And how about you?"

"Morinaga. Morinaga Kaede. Remember that name. It's going to be the name of your killer."

Alas, the orphan would later discover that his foster mother and several of her customers did pass away in the hands of the amoral monstrosity that took him in after they snuck back to the scene of the crime, overhearing the words of the people who'd gathered there. He then realized that he could never come back to the place he called home.

As they traveled across Japan as a pair composed of a dotanuki-wielding demon seeking strength while serving as a soldier of fortune who provided his services to the highest bidder and the adopted child of a prostitute from the Yoshiwara Red Light District, Morinaga attempted to kill his master by any means necessary, from poisoning his food to attempting to stab him in his sleep, as per their agreement.

Failing that, he served as a thorn to Akatsuki's side, playing pranks on him like cutting the straps of his sandals or putting lice-infested strands of hair on his dandruff-filled mane.

Not once did the ronin complain save for the occasional admonishment of, "You're a hundred years to early to kill me. Train harder, and maybe you'll be able to avenge your mother's death. Don't you love her enough to do so?"

Doraku fed him, clothed him, and taught (more like attacked) him using a dual-wielding sword style that appeared far too technical and defensive to be suited for a gigantic, warmongering oni like him. Morinaga always believed that a more rambunctious, unconventional, and devil-may-care sword school was a better fit for his violent master.

There came a point when Kaede put two and two together and concluded that his master never killed his mother in the first place, even accidentally. For the longest time, he wondered whether this was true or something he wished was true.

Eventually, Morinaga would learn the truth behind his missing memories and Akatsuki's well-meaning lies. He'd then wish they ended up locked away in his mind for the rest of his life, but by then, it was too late. Pandora's Box was already open.

* * *

Every hint of noise and sound within the mansion's guestroom died then and there as its occupants stared at the red-faced Battousai of Speed's chest in unison.

Maybe they should've expected the Kenshin look-alike to be a girl. Hell, that was one of the first things that crossed Yahiko's mind when he first met the real Kenshin Himura: Him being female.

'A woman? Seta-kun has been having trouble taking down a mere woman? No, this cannot be.' To Soujiro, Tetsuo declared, "She's just a woman! A mere girl that fell before your might thrice already! Amakusa was desperate enough to use a little girl to help him with his attempt on my life! Finish her off now! She's nothing but a second-rate Battousai imposter!"

'So she's the female version of Battousai. Why? Why would she need to hide her gender? What possible tactical advantage would that provide except maybe surprise her enemy for a couple of minutes?'

As it were, the Battousai of Speed looked so much like Kenshin that everyone automatically assumed she was male. Nothing short of Soujiro's eye-popping revelation by outright slashing her garments would've convinced them otherwise.

Yahiko mused, 'Did she pretend to be a guy to make her eerily identical Kenshin impersonation even more convincing? Because quite frankly, she didn't need to. Kenshin is supposed to be girly.'

On the other hand, her ability to stand her ground against the Heaven Sword aside, the fact of the matter remained that she was but a slightly skilled little girl who was merely pretending to be the infamous Battousai. At best, she was nothing more than a distraction that outlived her usefulness and original purpose.

Rin gasped as she heard her father's revelations, her eyesight too poor to confirm for herself what had happened. However, she saw enough of the Battousai double to conclude, 'The Battousai of Speed doesn't look any older than I am. We may even have the same height and build. How was she able to do so well against Seta-kun?'

"You remind me of one of my Juppon Gatana comrades and the way he acted. I once knew this crossdresser who was in love with the leader of our faction, and the way you overreacted over having your breasts groped is reminiscent of how he overreacts whenever his femininity or his love for Shishio-san was questioned," explained the Ten Ken to his opponent.

Yahiko wondered whether or not Soujiro was intentionally rubbing salt on the rebel's open wound. 'Jeez, Psycho-Kid. Have some tact.'

Without ceremony, the Battousai of Speed covered her exposed chest by closing the open flaps of her kimono. The people before her shuddered as one as she glared at each and every one of them. Even a person who wasn't trained in swordsmanship and ki-reading could feel the Battousai doppelganger's blood boil.

Then again, just as none of them expected the Battousai of Speed to be a woman disguised as a younger version of Battousai, they also didn't expect the following reaction. They didn't even have time to contemplate the implications behind the Fake Battousai's true gender, at that.

"You touched me again. DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME, YOU PERVERT!" screeched the livid Battousai of Speed, her hands a blur of surging blade tips that reduced everything in their path to dust.

"Pervert...?" muttered Yahiko.

'She's angry now. I have the chance to end it in one shot while she's still hysterical.' At the back of Soujiro's mind, he idly wondered if he looked exactly how the Fake Battousai did at the moment once he himself suffered from his own mental breakdown in the hands of Kenshin Himura.

He'd defeat her the same way Kenshin defeated him once he lost faith in his absolute truth: The weak was food for the strong, and only the strongest would survive.

The light from the Battousai of Speed's eyes went black as she blasted Soujiro with unrelenting Swarming Barbs.

To Seta, Akahori recommended, "Battousai-dono is getting desperate. Keep your guard up and wait for her to make a mistake. Even if she doesn't, the building pressure will sap her stamina dry. She can't touch you at all while you're using the Shukuchi."

As soon as his words left his lips, Akahori's jaw dropped so low that it nearly made his nasal wound reopen once more. 'What? Seta-kun is trapped at a dead end...?'

Sure enough, without Soujiro noticing, he'd been herded right into a corner of the room, his back driven against two intersecting walls while directly in front of him ran the open-armed, dual-wielding Fake Battousai. "Well played, Battousai-of-Speed-san. Let's see which one of us lands the first strike."

"Battousai this. Battousai that. I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THAT DAMN NAME!"

Trapped between a wall he couldn't scale because he didn't have enough space to pick up momentum to do so and a rain of pointed steel that would've turned him into a pincushion, Soujiro had no other choice but to move forward. Even with what little breathing room his enemy allowed between them, the Ten Ken accelerated to Shukuchi speed at his first step.

"What's her problem? She doesn't want to be called Battousai, yet she's part of the Battousai Group? She's a girl who intentionally crossdressed to look like Kenshin! She even has the Edo Era outfit, scar, and red hair to go along with the name!" Yahiko asked out loud, shaking his head at how contradictory the rebel's statements were.

The closed-eye and pallid Rin softly responded, "Perhaps she didn't name herself that. Maybe somebody else _made_ her look exactly like Himura Kenshin. It just happened that she looked like him, and there was someone who took advantage of that fact, since she never wanted to be like Battousai in the first place."

As though overhearing Rin and Yahiko's conversation, the undulating Battousai of Speed shared, "I hate that name. I would never proudly call myself that. It's only because of Shogo-sama that I'm pretending to be the man whose own reputation ruined my entire life!"

"How exactly did Himura-san ruin your life?" Soujiro asked as he himself had a flashback of Kenshin _also_ turning his life upside down because of the former rurouni's mere existence.

He added, "I have no idea what you're talking about or what you have against Himura-san, but it's now clear to me that you and he are nothing alike. For one thing, he doesn't even use stabbing techniques this often."

"Shut up and fight!" came the Fake Battousai's retort.

Thanks to the momentum he had gained from rushing to strike first, the Heaven Sword had to contend with the risk of being left wide open for a split second had he missed his strike. 'Then I won't miss.'

Instead of using the Kuzu Ryu Sen... a move created specifically to be countered in an instant... the Ten Ken opted to deploy the flurrying and continuous offensive Shogo used against him earlier.

"Ryu Sou Sen."

"That's another technique you stole from Battousai and Shogo-sama, you originality-bereft copycat thief! I'll make you realize your own folly!"

Strikes were missed, flesh was cut, and blades were crossed. Even with what little space he had in front of him, Soujiro maintained his in-and-out motion, pushing the Battousai of Speed back inch by precious inch while avoiding harm. Conversely, the halting nature of the Heaven Sword's swaying assault within a hard-to-maneuver area allowed the Fake Battousai to land some small hits herself from time to time.

Akahori harrumphed as he berated himself for doubting his bodyguard earlier. 'Calm down, Tetsuo. Most of Battousai-dono's shots aren't landing. She's the one who's wasting precious energy and movement while Seta-kun plays with her like a cat would a mouse. Everything is still going according to plan. Just be patient.'

As if in a daze, the pumped-up Fake Battousai ranted while stabbing at Soujiro in every which way, "During that time, over and over again, he called me Battousai. All because I was cursed with the same eyes, build, face, and hair, he called me Battousai. He even gave me this cross scar to look more like Battousai. I hate that name. I don't even know who that name belonged to at the time, but I hated Battousai too for existing!"

Timing Soujiro as he backed away from a wakizashi thrust, the Battousai of Speed moved forward with the intention of blowing her opponent's guts out with a full-bodied plunge. "There's no escape for you now!"

Alas, Soujiro proved him wrong yet again by reducing the fatal stab into a near-miss pinprick by dodging to the right and escaping from the dead end. He then wound up at the opposite side of the room.

"As much as I'd like to have my rematch against Himura-san, I won't settle for substitutes. Your hypocrisy, insecurities, gender, and lack of skill pretty much confirms how unlike Himura-san you are. You may look like him, but you're nothing like him otherwise. It's unfortunate, but this charade needs to end right now," the scuffed-up but otherwise healthy Seta surmised.

The Battousai of Speed growled and turned, only to freeze as her hands, arms, legs, and entire body shook like a leaf thanks to her previous exertions, her weapons nearly falling out of her fingers' tenuous grip as her half-exposed chest tightened and seemingly crushed her swelling internal organs. She was at her limit.

Although for the first time since the fight began, the Fake Battousai managed to draw blood from Soujiro, it was cold comfort in light of what she had to sacrifice to accomplish that feat. 'Dammit, _move_. Please Shogo-sama's God, I can't fail Shogo-sama now! Not after everything he's been through!'

Without ceremony, Soujiro kicked the only table left intact from his earlier fight with the godly Amakusa right at the Fake Battousai's face.

The redheaded imposter reacted in kind, slicing the wooden furniture into quarters with the Cancer Stance's Scissor Grip and follow-up Crisscross Claw that slashed outwards in a cross-shaped pattern.

However, the Ten Ken took advantage of the momentary distraction by sheathing his sword while his enemy was sidetracked by the overturned table.

"Yes! Use your battoujutsu against that joke of a 'Battousai' who doesn't even know the first thing about sword-drawing techniques!"

The Oyakata smirked as the spent Battousai imposter stumbled and swayed like a drunk. "Whoever heard of a Battousai that doesn't do battoujutsu? She's like a fish that can't swim or a bomb that can't explode. She's worthless. Your Battousai-like looks won't save you now, harlot!"

While Akahori ranted about name semantics and the trembling Battousai of Speed fell into her offensive stabbing stance once more... specifically when Tetsuo uttered the first syllable of the word "battoujutsu"... Soujiro charged towards the Fake Battousai just short of doing an outright Shukuchi and released his sheathed blade in one swift motion towards his waning foe's skinny neck.

"MORINAGA KAEDE! Stop fooling around! You're better than this!"

A voice from the corner of the room rasped, which woke the mesmerized Rin and Yahiko from the divineness of Soujiro's battoujutsu... a move powerful enough to cleave through Kenshin's first sakabatou... and pierced through the leaden denseness that filled the Battousai of Speed's shivering body.

"AMAKUSA! You're still alive? You should've died along with your foolish dreams," Akahori roared as his instinct beckoned him to reach for a nonexistent gun within his empty holster.

The sting of Tetsuo's sliced face radiated and swelled at the sight of the man who epitomized everything he hated about this superstitious and illogical world. 'I see. The god I tried to kill hasn't died yet. He still has a believer left.'

By barely a millimeter, Soujiro's ever-present smile wavered as his eyelids peeled back at their furthest and goose flesh appeared on his skin. By barely a millisecond, he faltered upon hearing the echoing shout from his employer's bitterest enemy, Shogo Amakusa.

This millimeter of emotion and millisecond of hesitation were all it took for the Fake Battousai to shift stances, cross her blades together, and stop the unsheathed sword's strike from completing its upward arc. The Vice Grip was a shirahadori technique that could rival Yahiko's own Hadome or Hadachi.

As though Death himself simultaneously gripped the spines of everyone else not involved in the duel, the gathered audience within the guestroom shuddered at the sight of Soujiro's self-taught battoujutsu stopped cold by the diminutive Kenshin doppelganger's twin blades.

'So Morinaga is her name,' thought Yahiko belatedly.

"Shogo-sama," Morinaga whispered like the summer breeze while tightening her grip on her dual weapons. For his part, Amakusa remained lying on the floor, the energy it took for him to shout out his words of encouragement rendering him unconscious in a snap.

Soujiro retrieved his blade before Kaede had a chance to disarm him. He then went back to the prowl, his pounding Shukuchi gallop exploding all over the room while the Fake Battousai stood stock-still.

Yahiko himself turned and saw Morinaga engulfed in what appeared to be foot-sized gunfire that turned the already crumbling floor into unevenly tilled soil and debris. The Ten Ken remained nowhere in sight.

'If you won't fall down on a single battoujutsu stroke, then how about this?' Soujiro reckoned before shouting, "Ryu Sou Sen!" and unleashing wild, random strikes that surrounded the Kenshin doppelganger and coincided well with his similarly untamed and unpredictable footwork.

Even without looking at the supine form of Shogo, the Battousai of Speed could still spot him in either corner of her eyes while she recalled his words that saved her life.

Morinaga didn't respond to Shogo's appeal with a "Yes, I will fight seriously this time around," but instead answered with the declaration of "Cancer Stance: Protective Shell," that rung louder to the barely conscious Christian leader's ears than any statement of agreement.

Every last strike Seta unleashed with the Dragon Nest Flash ended up parried, stopped, or otherwise deflected by the barrier-like technique that allowed the Fake Battousai to block from every corner and angle. Cracking open an oyster's shell would've been easier than penetrating through Morinaga's crablike defense.

'What the hell is going on?'

Both Yahiko's and Tetsuo's respective faces became as white as Rin's skin as they espied the spectacle before them. Although the Heaven Sword surrounded his opponent with multiple slashes aimed at the human body's vital points, not one of them could pierce the dense dome of whirling steel that shielded the weakened, rubber-legged assassin from harm.

Rin herself remained pokerfaced throughout the entire exchange, although this might be more because she couldn't discern what was happening right before her eyes thanks to her nearsightedness than actual apathy on her part.

"I don't care how fast you are, Ten Ken. As long as you keep aiming for my vital points, I'll be able to pinpoint your predictable strikes no matter how many or how random they are," Morinaga boasted, her blurry arms acting like rotating windmills amidst the furious air currents of a hurricane.

'What's happening? Only minutes ago, she was firing off all-or-nothing stabs at Seta-kun that missed more often that not. It's as if she's become a different fighter altogether!' Yahiko thought.

* * *

_To be Continued..._

**Next: **The Ten Ken exposed.

_One theme I particularly liked about Rurouni Kenshin is how it doesn't showcase a particular belief or principle as absolutely right or absolutely wrong. For example, even though the author didn't really believe in how "practical" the Sekihoutai's principles were, he still gave them a fair shake._

**Taas noo kahit kanino,****_  
_**Abdiel


End file.
